


Kill Me Softly

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Castlevania, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Coming Untouched, Jason's Questionable Vow of Chastity, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Priest Jason Todd, Quests, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Snark and Banter, Vampire Tim Drake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:16:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23491540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: After the events of Castlevania Season 2, Father Jason Belmont and the vampire mage Timothy Drake quest across Wallachia in search of Carmilla and her army. Along the way, the unlikely pair learn more about each other and get sidetracked thanks to Jason's annoying habit of receiving visions from God, despite the fact he's supposed to be an excommunicated priest. Well, apparently God doesn't care about Rome's edict, so what other rules are out there just waiting to be broken?---“Christ forgive me,” he murmured.“What sin have you committed that requires forgiveness?” Tim asked, cocking his head to the side.Jason cracked a small smile and tore his gaze from the vision beside him, casting it out across the pool and the colorful pattern of the tile. “My typical one.”“Which is?”“Lust. Gets me every time.”
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 161
Kudos: 465





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Contains spoilers for Castlevania Season Two on Netflix.

The methodic _clop_ of horse hooves on the dirt road combined with the quiet rattle of the well-appointed carriage was almost enough to send Jason into a meditative state. There was a rhythm to it, one that harmonized with the idle tune Tim plucked from his lute in the darkness behind him. Overhead, the mid-afternoon sun fought its way through the light green foliage courtesy of a spring that had finally decided to arrive. 

Jason startled as the carriage struck a rock and shook before steadying out. 

“I thought you said you knew how to drive one of these?” Tim’s voice echoed out from the narrow slot in the carriage wall. Old as the vampire mage was, his daily torpor wasn’t long. He could function during the daylight hours as long as he avoided direct contact with the sun. 

Handy at times, but more often, it was a pain in the ass. Like now. 

“I’d like to see you come out here and drive, princess,” Jason snapped, wondering yet again why he was in this situation in the first place. 

A Belmont and a vampire partnered up in a vain attempt to save the world from darkness and destruction. It was almost as insane as the situation his cousin found himself in, but at least he had that pretty Speaker to warm his bed and roast his ass whenever he drank too much. What did he get? A snarky bloodsucker with centuries of sass to dump on him, that’s what. 

“If I could, I would. I’m sure I’d do a much better job of it,” Tim sniped in return. 

“Kill the horses is what you’d do if we drove at night. Unless you want to conjure up some nightmare to haul us around?” Creepy as Hell, but they did come in handy. It was annoying how the powers of darkness had many of the more practical magics, like transportation. 

“A nightmare would burn the harness before long, and while your assumption that I’m made of money isn’t too far off the mark, I don’t want to spend time on unnecessary delays.” The vampire’s voice grew darker. “Or rather, on any more unnecessary delays.” 

Jason chuckled and shifted along the cushioned driver’s seat to ease the pressure on his back. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it beat the heck out of a saddle. “Old Wayne sure fucked you over good.” 

Tim’s low growl had him laughing even more. “I knew he had pacifist tendencies, but I didn’t realize quite how far he’d gone down that path.” 

“I wouldn’t say he’s entirely there,” Jason drawled. “After all, he sent us to do his dirty work.” 

“Like common mercenary trash.” The condescending tone made Tim’s stance on the matter clear. 

“Hey, you got what you wanted, right? You did him a favor, he paid you for it. Not so different from what I do to put coin in my purse.” 

“And a mug of ale in your hand, I’m sure.”

“Given a choice between ale and a warm bed, I’ll take the bed any day. I’m not Trevor.” His words belied the strong sympathy he felt for his cousin. The last Belmont of the main family line, he and Jason did not get on well despite the blood they shared, probably because they were so damn similar. But unlike him, Trevor had been there the day the house fell, and their family slaughtered. That kind of thing messed with a person’s head, so it was a small wonder his cousin could even function as well as he did. Although _well_ was an exaggeration, at least until recently. 

“A fact I am eternally grateful for,” Tim replied. “I think I lucked out with my choice in partners, even if you are a former priest.” 

Jason shrugged, the heavy leather of his armor stiff across his shoulders. It was still new and hadn’t seen enough action to be fully broken in yet. There were times he missed his cassock, even if that black cloth bore its own unique weight. “The church might have excommunicated the Belmonts, but that doesn’t mean we gave up our faith.” 

“Only your vow of chastity,” the vampire teased. 

“Hey, while you were with Bruce learning that meteor spell Dracula nearly killed us with, I used my rather considerable charms to get this carriage refurbished for you. You’re welcome.” The time spent with Lord Wayne’s eldest ward, a human man not too much older than him, was well worth it. That guy was damn flexible. 

“Is that what you’re calling it?”

“I made sure he had a good time. His wife had a fucking fantastic time, and as thanks, he gave me a gift that you’re reaping the benefits of.” 

Tim chuckled and plucked another tune out on his lute. “I did manage to come out ahead on that one, I suppose.” 

Jason wasn’t so sure about that. The sex had been _really_ good, and while he wasn’t exactly the kind of man who enjoyed a pair of breasts, Dick’s wife Kory had the most perfect set he’d ever had the pleasure of burying his face between while getting reamed up the ass. “Like I said. You’re welcome.” 

“How much further to the next town?” The vampire asked, changing the subject. “The sun grows closer to the horizon.”

“If the last signpost was accurate, we’ve got about two leagues left.” 

“And here I was hoping for a bath this evening. I’m sick of horse.” 

“Drinking it or smelling of it?” 

“Both.” 

Not for the first time, Jason laughed at the sheer petulance of the supernatural being trapped in the carriage behind him. Timothy Drake was a powerful mage who had been a tutor of Alucard when he was a child and a friend of the dhampir’s mother. During the battle of Dracula’s castle, he stood aside and let his former pupil pass rather than defend his master. 

As a precaution, because the humans did not want an unknown vampire lurking behind them, Jason had used his _Tetragonus Crux_ prayer to barricade him in before rushing after the others. Tim hadn’t put up a fight, and when Dracula was dead, they found him seated on the floor waiting patiently to be released from his holy prison. Alucard fell to his knees and embraced the man, leaving the rest of them scratching their heads until the story emerged. 

Over the next few days, Tim explained what the last year had been like in the castle. The madness of Dracula, the building of his armies, and the summoning of his generals; they were riveted by the tale. But he also informed them about the two human Forge Masters that had been in Dracula’s employ. What Jason heard turned his stomach. The atrocities, the deaths – he thought he’d seen the worst humanity was capable of. 

The fact that it was two humans behind the night hordes plaguing the land at Dracula’s behest, he’d suddenly found himself facing a new level of depravity. 

_“I do not know what Dracula did with Isaac; he was with him when you arrived. But Hector disappeared at_ _Brăila_ _, most likely with the vampire Carmilla of Styria. She will use him to create a new night horde, of that I have no doubt.”_

The information, while concerning, was mostly speculation as Tim hadn’t seen the defection with his own eyes. So, while Alucard took some time to grieve, and Trevor and Sypha went to find the Seekers to share the tale of Dracula’s death, Jason and Tim were on the road to Brăila to discover the truth. 

A cloud passed overhead, casting its shadow onto the world below. Jason looked up, trying to make out the sky through the pale green of newly budded leaves. 

“What is it?” The strumming stopped as Tim spoke. 

“Clouds. Not sure if rain is moving in or if they’re just being friendly.”

“Either one means I can get out of this carriage sooner.” 

“Sorry, princess. They’re not that thick, so you’d be ash in no time.” 

Tim grumbled something unintelligible and went back to strumming his lute. 

For the most part, the vampire mage wasn’t a bad traveling companion, even if he was taking his cover as a minstrel a little too seriously. Jason had definitely dealt with worse, including his younger cousin who slept in a ditch more often than not, pissed drunk. 

Unlike most vampires, Tim didn’t drink exclusively from humans. Most of his blood came from animals, such as deer and horses, or even cattle. The vampire seemed to have a particular hatred for the Church though, which Jason had the chance to learn firsthand in a small town they’d passed through. Tim hadn’t even blinked when he tore the throat out of the local priest who’d thrown so-called holy water on him, calmly walking away while licking his fingers clean. 

_“You have no faith, yet you wear that collar. The Devil reserves a special place in Hell for those such as you.”_

The irony of his current predicament wasn’t lost on Jason. 

“The horses are tired,” he said as they creaked along. “Why don’t we spend a couple of days in the town and rest up? The Lord knows what we’ll find in Brăila considering the stories we’re hearing. Trim your nails, hide your ears, it should be okay if you keep your mouth shut.” 

“And spend my day in the taproom?”

“Play a happy tune on that lute of yours and no one will think twice that you’re a bit on the pasty side for a minstrel.” 

“I am not _pasty._ ”

“Sure, you’re not. Keep telling yourself that.”

* * *

It was after dark when they approached the gates. The town was of decent size and on the main trade route out of the river port city that was their destination. Tim had escaped the interior of the coach as soon as the sun sank below the horizon, his ears mostly concealed by his baggy cap and artfully arranged hair. How he managed that little trick without a mirror, Jason would never know. 

“Oy, there,” called out a rough looking man in ill-fitting armor. “State your business.” 

Jason reined in the horses, not that they needed much prodding. The carriage creaked to a stop. “We’re heading for Brăila on the Lord’s work,” he intoned, trying for just the right amount of superciliousness that always pissed him off whenever he encountered a Church bishop. “And seek shelter for the night.” 

“Possibly even a few nights,” Tim added, his voice pitched in a falsetto as he gestured breezily, clearly relishing his role. “I need a new audience besides him.” 

“An audience for what?” asked the second guard, taking a step closer to the carriage.

The disguised vampire held up his lute case. “My companion has absolutely no appreciation for music.”

Jason rolled his eyes at the air-headed performance Tim was putting on. “I would if you could actually, I dunno, _sing_?” 

The guards snickered as Tim whirled on Jason. “What are you talking about? I can charm a nightingale down from a tree, you heathen,” he said with an affronted scoff. 

“Maybe in your dreams.” 

The first guard laughed louder this time and waved a hand up toward the guardhouse overlooking the road. “Let them through!” 

“Thank you, good sirs.” Tim nodded benignly down at them as the iron-wrought gate creaked open. “If you wish to judge my ability to sing for yourselves, we’ll be at –,” he paused and looked around briefly as if in confusion. “Where will we be staying?”

“A carriage like that, you’ll be looking for the _Lord’s Blessing_ ,” offered the second guard. “Head up the street and take a left at the main square. Can’t miss it.” 

“Appropriate, considering we’re on the Lord’s work,” Tim replied.

“If you’re truly heading to Brăila, then you’ll need it.” 

As Jason prodded the horses forward, he made a mental note to speak with the gate guards tomorrow. They would be a font of information if he went about it the right way. Time to raid Tim’s purse for ale money. 

“That almost seemed too easy,” he commented, driving down the cobbled street. This town had done rather well for itself if they could afford paved stones. 

“I might have laid it on a little thick,” Tim admitted, propping a heeled boot on the footboard. “I really want a bath.” 

Jason glanced over at the vampire, frowning. “Did you charm them?” He hadn’t picked up on anything, but the mage was old and subtle, or so Alucard had warned him when they hit the road. 

“Not to the point where they were going against their will.” Tim returned the glance with a smirk that flashed a brief hint of fang. “They both appreciate music.”

“Is that what you call what you do with that lute of yours? Probably better off using it for firewood one of these nights.” 

“You are absolutely insufferable.”

“Yeah, fuck you too.”

* * *

Despite the troubled times, the inn was brightly lit and bustling when Jason drove into the courtyard. 

He frowned, eyeing the number of horses being led into the large stable. “Think this place is full?” 

“Only one way to find out.” Tim hopped down and disappeared inside. 

Arching his back for what felt like the thousandth time, Jason sighed when the vertebrae didn’t pop. It was safe to say he was done for. A niggling little voice that sounded like Tim said this was the joy of growing old. He punched it in the face and shoved it aside. There was far too much work still to be done before he’d acknowledge he was getting too old for this shit. 

Tim returned a few minutes later, scowling. 

“What?” Jason asked, not liking the thundercloud on the vampire’s face. 

“The inn is almost full. We have to share a room.” 

“Fucking fantastic. What about baths?” 

“We’re in luck on that count. There’s an actual bathhouse attached to the inn. They do laundry too, for a price.” 

“Sold.” Jason stepped down from the carriage more carefully than Tim did, groaning quietly as his back protested. 

“Are you alright?” Tim asked, reaching out to steady him. 

“Just really looking forward to that bath.” 

“Good. We stink of horse. If I have to share a room with you for three nights, you had better be clean.”

Jason scoffed, shrugging off the hand in favor of making his way to the back of the carriage to retrieve his satchel. “Excuse you, princess, but did you forget that I used to give people baths for a living? I spent more time in the water than out of it some days.”

Tim’s retort was lost as a stable lad approached to start unharnessing the horses. Jason gave him a few instructions, then hoisted his meager belongings over a shoulder, smothering a wince. 

“You did something to your back, didn’t you?” the vampire asked when he rejoined him. His own bundle sat on the cobblestones by his feet. 

“Maybe? Probably just too much time on that damn bench.”

“Or too little time recovering after getting tossed around by an army of vampires.” 

“Well, it’s not like I had much of a choice. Couldn’t leave you to wander around by yourself.” 

Tim shook his head. “Spoken like a true Belmont.”

“You better believe it. Now where the fuck is the bath?”

* * *

They lucked out and were the only men on their side of the bath when they entered, a bonus from having arrived later in the evening. The bath was built in the style of the Ottomans, a tiled recess in the floor to sit and relax after scrubbing away the dirt and grime from the road with a basin of water. 

Jason shucked his leather armor without a second thought and was lost in the sleeves of his shirt when the laundry maid approached. “One second,” he said, untangling himself, bare from the waist up save for the silver crucifix hanging from around his neck. Considering his company, he should probably do something about that.

The dark-haired beauty gave him a saucy smile. “I’ll give you a whole minute,” she replied with a wink. 

“Here,” Tim interrupted, shoving his clothes and what apparently was an entire bundle of dirty laundry into the young woman’s arms, as well as Jason’s fur-lined cape. His hair was still hidden beneath the baggy cap, lending a ludicrous appearance to his otherwise nude form. “There’s a silver in it for you if that cloak is clean tonight.” 

Dark brows rose nearly to her hairline, over the request or Tim’s casual nudity, Jason wasn’t entirely sure. “Yes, milord,” the maid responded, juggling everything deftly. 

“Here.” Jason finished stripping down, then grabbed a towel to conceal his groin before turning to hand over his pants. “There’s a few things in my satchel too.” 

Once the maid was gone, leaving them alone, he turned on his companion. “What the hell was that about?” 

“What was what about?” Tim asked as he took a seat on the low stool beside him and dipped a clean cloth into the steaming water from the basin at his side. The presence of the crucifix didn’t seem to be bothering him, unless he was doing a damn good job of pretending. 

“Paying extra to have my cloak clean tonight.” 

The vampire shrugged and squeezed the cloth out over his shoulder. Rivulets of water streamed down his lean chest. 

Jason suddenly realized he’d never seen Tim quite this unclothed before. The man was shorter than him by about a handspan and built along leaner lines, but still broad of shoulder. Whether he’d had that layer of muscle before he was turned or if the vampire’s curse perfected what had already been there, Jason was very curious to find out. 

He bit his tongue to keep the question from spilling out of his mouth. 

“It’s simple,” Tim replied, reminding him of the question he did ask before his brain went sideways. “If the bath does not help with your back, then I have a salve that might. It’s on the oily side, so I’d rather not stain the blankets on the bed if you can avoid it.” 

Big surprise that the kind gesture was hidden beneath the snark. “Oh, so you’d rather me stain my cloak instead?” 

Tim reached for the soap, the soft lamplight in the room giving his pale skin a luminous glow. “Yes. Now stop complaining and start washing. You stink.” 

“So does your face,” Jason muttered, bending over with a scowl. 

“I heard that.” 

“You were meant to.” 

He washed as quickly as his aching back would allow, trying to ignore Tim while feeling those pale blue eyes taking in every wince and suppressed groan. Finally clean, Jason stood, unashamed of his own nudity, and crossed the room to the tiled pool of steaming water. There was a small step to sit on, but he skipped it in favor of fully submersing his body, leaving only his head above the water to rest on the folded towel he’d brought with him. 

This time, the moan he let escape was one of pure pleasure. “Dear God in Heaven, thank you for this blessing.” 

“I hope that doesn’t turn this into a pool of holy water,” Tim commented, coming to a stop where the stone floor ended and the colorful tile began. 

Jason cracked open an eye and swallowed hard at the sight of what rested between the vampire’s legs. Even soft, he was gifted. His mouth started to water at the thought of seeing just how much he could make him grow. “Nope,” he managed to say, closing his eyes again to preserve what was left of his sanity. “I don’t have any salt.” 

“What?” The water stirred as the vampire entered, taking a seat on the step beside him. 

“To make holy water, first you need to exorcise some salt and pray over it,” Jason explained. “Then you do the same with the water and mix the two together. Then another prayer.” 

“There’s lots of praying involved.” 

“Is that really a surprise?” 

“Not especially.” The vampire sighed and the water stirred again as he shifted. 

Jason dared to open an eye again now that certain body parts were submerged. Tim had his hair wrapped in a turban-style towel on his head, concealing his ears. It looked utterly ridiculous and he couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped. 

“Something amuses you?” Tim glanced down at him, brow arched in judgement.

“Just everything.” He gestured idly. “Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d be sharing a bath with a vampire.” 

“You’ll be sharing a bed with me later.” 

The thought didn’t disturb him as much as it should. A Belmont and a vampire? Really? Jason knew he was overdue for a good long talk with God. Maybe this was His way of reminding him, by throwing this temptation in his path. Consorting with a married man and his wife was bad enough, but he’d been _invited_ , thank you very much. Everyone involved knew what parts were going where and there were no tears or shouts when they finished. Only heavy breathing, sweaty skin, and murmured voices asking how long before they could do it again. 

But sharing a bed with a vampire, even if it was in the most literal meaning of the phrase, that was different. Especially since Jason still wanted to find out how much of a grower said vampire actually was. 

“Christ forgive me,” he murmured. 

“What sin have you committed that requires forgiveness?” Tim asked, cocking his head to the side. 

Jason cracked a small smile and tore his gaze from the vision beside him, casting it out across the pool and the colorful pattern of the tile. “My typical one.” 

“Which is?” 

“Lust. Gets me every time.” 

“I thought you’d broken your vow of chastity? Or did you retake it somewhere along the roadside and I missed it?” 

“Oh, it’s still broken. I doubt there’s enough _Hail Mary’s_ to save me from the thoughts in my mind.” 

“If it’s a thought, then it’s not a sin,” Tim stated with conviction. “Yes, there are some thoughts that are just as horrible as the action itself, but you are not one of those men. You are good and honest. You care even when the Church has taken away everything from you. I believe you are a truer man of God than the one who sits upon his throne in Rome.” 

“Then why do I –” Jason cut himself off before he could say more.

“Why do you what?” Tim asked, trailing his fingers through the water, tracing invisible patterns only he could see. 

Jason wished those patterns were on his skin. “Nothing.” 

“If it wasn’t nothing, you wouldn’t be so melancholy.” 

So very true. He sighed and arched his back, the muscles releasing some of their pent-up tension now that they were warm. The water rippled as his body moved beneath the surface and he suddenly wondered just how clearly Tim could see him, all stretched out as he was. 

He shoved that thought aside. They’d already established that Tim didn’t subscribe to modesty. 

“Well?” Tim prodded. “What is bothering you, besides your back?” 

“Why do you want to know?” 

A small wave struck his chin as Tim smacked the water with some force. “Because you are my traveling companion for the time being. Your humanity makes you fragile, but the fact you are a priest makes you prone to unnecessary guilt. I repeat what I said before. You are a true man of God and have nothing to fear.” 

Jason glanced up and met Tim’s eyes. Such a pale blue, but still so bright. His crucifix suddenly weighed heavy against his chest and he reached up to clutch it, silently praying for strength he didn’t deserve. “If I was a true man of God, then why do I want you so badly?” 

Tim’s lips quirked upward as he gently traced a finger over Jason’s cheek, leaving behind a trail of water. “I would like to know the answer to that question myself. You are everything I should despise. A Belmont and a priest, who even excommunicated is still holier than any human I have encountered during my long life. What you feel, what you question, mirror my own thoughts.” 

“So that means you want to fuck me too?” 

“God, yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

The fucking had to wait, much to Jason’s displeasure. As soon as he attempted to exit the warm pool, his back seized up, sending him to the floor. His knees scraped along the tile, adding more insult to injury. 

“Ow.” 

Cool fingers pressed in along either side of his spine. “I think I’ve felt stone with more give to it than this,” Tim commented. “How badly were you injured back at the castle?” 

“I didn’t get tossed around as much as Trevor, if that’s what you’re asking.” Jason twitched and tried to roll over. It didn’t happen, but someone got a clue and helped him lie flat. “Oh, fuck me. That feels good.” 

Tim gave him an even look. “That wasn’t what I was asking.” 

That kind of response deserved a finger, so Jason raised a hand as high as he could to do it. 

“Very mature.” 

“I thought so. Just give me a few minutes and then you can help me hobble my ass upstairs.” 

“Your ass isn’t going anywhere.” Tim rose to his feet and dropped a towel on Jason’s head. “Stay there.” 

“Gee, thanks. So helpful.” Jason swiped the towel away from his face and caught a glimpse of the vampire’s retreating backside. It was just as fuckable as the front. “I’ll just be right here then,” he called out, spitefully. 

The pain decided to take hold at that point, throbbing down the muscles and into his legs. One decided to spasm, jerking wildly before settling down. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes before the wave passed, leaving him gasping on the floor. 

Tim returned, half-dressed in breeches that were soaking wet and knelt beside him. His hair was still wrapped in the towel, which had Jason wanting to laugh before deciding that was a bad idea. 

“Did you harass the laundry maid in just your skin?” he asked instead, welcoming the cool caress against his feet. His feet? What? 

“I had a towel.” Tim grasped his calf, raising it from the floor, and worked a boot over his foot. “Our room is ready. I’ll carry you up there if I have to, but this will work better if you at least pretend to walk.” 

“I think I can do that.” Jason watched, bemused, as his other foot was shoved into a boot. The whole thing felt surreal because this was the last thing he expected vampire nobility to do. “Didn’t get the left and right mixed up, did you?” 

The vampire ignored him and shook out a large, dry blanket. “I borrowed this since I don’t think you’ll be putting clothes on tonight.” 

“Wow, way to fuck a guy when he’s down.” Jason braced his hands against the floor as he readied himself in an attempt to sit up. “I thought you’d want more active participation on my part.” 

It could have been a trick of the light, but Tim’s eyes flashed bright at his words. “Oh, trust me, Belmont. I do. Although we might want to explore the possibility of a gag because I doubt you ever shut up even when you’re getting fucked.” 

Jason smirked, which quickly turned into a grimace as he carefully pushed away from the floor. “Nope, I never do. Gotta express my appreciation somehow. Especially if it’s good.” 

Tim trailed a long finger up the outside of his thigh, skirting the edge of the towel that barely concealed anything. “I hope you live up to your promise.” 

“I plan to, princess. Just, not tonight.” Jason grunted as he finally sat upright, most of his weight on his arms as his back twinged in protest. 

“Agreed.” Tim draped the blanket over his shoulders. 

The rough woolen fabric fell over his chest and Jason clutched it close as the vampire wrapped an arm around his waist, hauling him to his feet in one graceful move. 

“Ow, shit,” he gasped, legs wobbling under the strain. “Shit, shit, shit.” 

“I've got you,” Tim soothed, adjusting the blanket so that Jason’s arm was free and settled it over his shoulders. “Just lean on me. I can take your weight.” 

“You’re a fucking vampire, you could lift this entire inn if you wanted to.”

“I doubt the foundations would hold if I did that.” 

“Why are you so damn literal?” 

“Because it’s easier to distract you this way.” 

Noticing his surroundings for the first time, Jason would grant him that. They were in what appeared to be the rear staircase of the inn, the bathhouse left behind. He hadn’t even realized they were moving, so smooth was the transition. 

“Are you walking really fast or what?” he asked, curious as the walls warped around them, then finding himself on the landing going up to the first floor. Paying attention to it, his head swam and bile burned in the back of his throat. 

“I might be shifting reality a bit,” Tim admitted, steadying him as he struggled to stay upright. “Close your eyes. It’s easier.” 

“S-Sure,” Jason stuttered, swallowing hard. 

He didn’t hear or feel a thing until a door opened. 

“We’re here.” 

Jason opened his eyes to find himself standing in the doorway of a rather nicely appointed room. The bed would easily fit both him and Tim, and on the small table beneath the window, a bowl of stew waited with the end of a loaf of bread. A bottle of wine rested beside it, along with two tin cups. There was a small woodstove in the corner, already radiating heat. A chest of drawers sat along the opposite wall, with a wash basin, and an oil lamp that burned cheerfully on top. 

He had definitely slept in worse places. 

Tim led him to the table where he sat down with a heavy exhale. 

“Whatever the hell you did, that shit’s –,” he trailed off, forcing down another wave of nausea. He refused to vomit all over Tim’s boots. That was not a good way to convince someone to eventually have sex with him. 

“I should have warned you to keep your eyes closed,” Tim said, running a hand down his spine soothingly. “That was my fault.” 

“Easy to forget you’re a mage sometimes.” Jason let out a slow breath and burped, which helped settle the churning in his stomach. 

“Good.” Tim smirked and whipped the blanket away. “I need this more than you right now.” 

Before Jason could formulate a response, the vampire was gone, leaving him alone with just his boots and his crucifix. 

Well, fuck. At least there was food.

* * *

When Tim returned a while later, he was fully dressed, his pointed ears hidden beneath his baggy cap once more. He came armed with a bundle, as well as Jason’s fur-lined cloak and the leather armor he’d left in the bathhouse. 

“The rest will be ready in the morning,” he said, tossing the bundle and armor to the side and laying the cloak out on the bed. 

“What did you do? Wait by the fireplace for your shit to dry?” Jason asked, setting down his spoon. The hearty meal had done wonders for his stomach, as had the world ceasing to spin around his ears. 

Tim waggled his fingers at him. “I might have helped things along.” 

Mages. Ugh. “Just don’t blow our cover. People are really nervous with anything supernatural these days.” 

“I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

“No, you were born, what? A few centuries ago?” 

The vampire shot him an utterly affronted look. “Excuse you, but I was turned when Clovis became the first Christian king of what is now France.” 

Jason opened and closed his mouth a few times as he did the math. “That was a thousand years ago.” 

“My, how time flies. I could have sworn it was just yesterday.”

Throwing something at Tim seemed the only appropriate response, so he did. The empty tin cup was easily caught, but it made him feel slightly better. 

Taking a seat on the bed, Tim reached over to snag the bottle of wine. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because of my roguish good looks?” Jason tried for charming, but he was too tired to put much effort into it. 

“Definitely not that.” The vampire poured himself some wine and took a sip. His expression soured. “This is awful.” 

“You get what you pay for.” 

“I paid a silver piece for this.” 

“You sure love wasting good silver.” 

“What else do I have to spend it on? Food?” Tim scowled and took another sip. “If this place ever quiets down, I’ll check out the stable. There are plenty of horses here besides ours that I can get a meal from.” 

“Could go now. I’ll open the window for you. Bats or mist?” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

Jason cocked his head in confusion. “You’re a vampire, so you shapeshift, right? Bats or mist?” 

“Neither,” Tim stated. “The type of shift depends on the strain of vampirism one is infected with. I’m not originally from this part of Europe, so my shift is different.” 

“Oh?” Jason was intrigued. He’d heard of this before, but never from the mouth of a vampire. “I figured Drake was a variation of _drakul._ That you were somehow distantly related to the big guy himself.” 

“You’re not entirely wrong.” A thoughtful expression crossed the vampire’s face. “Like the Belmonts, I’m originally from France. Or Gaul, rather.” 

“So it’s actually Timothée, then?” Jason asked, giving the name its French pronunciation. 

“Close enough. Your accent is atrocious.” Tim took another sip of the wine and frowned hard at it before leaning over to place the bottle on the table. “I didn’t have a family name at the time of my turning. I chose Drake for myself long before I came east.” 

“Why?” 

The vampire met his eyes and grinned, fangs flashing in the light of the lamp. “Because of my shift. When I’m well-fed, I can turn into a dragon.” 

Jason’s jaw about hit the table. “What the actual fuck? Then why the hell are you plodding along in the back of a carriage when you could be, I don’t know, actually _flying?”_

“What part of _well-fed_ did you miss? I need a regular diet of human blood to maintain the shift for long. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m rather lacking in that at the moment.” 

He still couldn’t get over the fact that the vampire across from him could turn into a fucking _dragon._ “You can fly. Breathe fire. Raze a town in a few fell swoops. Screw the night horde, you’re stronger than any of them.” 

Tim rolled his eyes and finished his wine. “If I were like the generals in Dracula’s army, then yes, I am more powerful than they ever were. But showing off those abilities, that strength, has never been my way. Or hasn’t since I’ve been able to live for myself instead of at the call of another.” 

This made Jason wonder who exactly Tim’s sire was. From the sound of it, he or she was out of the picture — there was a note of permanence at the end of that statement. 

“What is your way, exactly?” he asked, curious. Despite a month of traveling with the other man, this was the first time he’d ever opened up much about his past. 

“Travel. Study. Living amongst the humans which my kind deems cattle and pets.” Tim’s lips quirked upward. “This was why Dracula asked me to be Adrian’s tutor. It’s why I got along so well with Lisa. Humanity has so much potential, if they’re just given the chance.” 

“No wonder you don’t like priests,” Jason replied, carefully adjusting his position in the sturdy chair to adjust the pressure on his back. “We represent the suppression of original thought and beliefs in favor of one sole doctrine.” 

It was a humbling thought. 

“Well,” Tim’s gaze met his own. “There’s one priest I wouldn’t mind getting to know a little better. He has a rather… _interesting_ take on faith. And a very questionable set of morals.” 

Jason laughed, accepting the dig for what it was. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t spread my legs for just anyone.” 

“The time you spent with Wayne’s heir and his wife begs to differ.” Tim glided off the bed and held out a hand. “Speaking of which, it’s time to lie down. I brought up that salve I mentioned earlier.” 

The sudden reminder that he’d been sitting here the whole time in just his boots was enough to make Jason’s ears pink. Once he’d sat down, there was no getting back up. “I think I need help,” he admitted, glancing away. 

“There is no shame in asking for assistance when you’re injured,” Tim admonished, taking hold of a shoulder and bending over to grasp his waist. 

“It’s not just that. You’re the one who left me here without any pants,” Jason retorted, grabbing the edge of the table as the vampire helped him to his feet. 

“Modesty is overrated. Besides, I saw everything downstairs already. As did you.” 

He most certainly did. That didn’t stop him from grumbling as Tim guided him to the bed. 

“I want you to lie on your stomach,” he instructed. 

Jason complied, folding his arms to rest his head on. The white ruff from the fur-lined hood in his cloak tickled his nose. The extra warmth was welcome as night fell further upon the land, bringing with it the customary chill of early spring. 

A hand grabbed hold of his ankle. “Relax your feet. I doubt you want to sleep with your boots on.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

Being man-handled by a vampire was a new experience. Tim was quick and efficient as he stripped him of his boots, then easily rearranged him so that he was flat on his face, arms stretched out on either side. 

“I think you forgot that I need this thing called _air_ ,” he muttered, knowing he’d be heard. 

“Sorry.” Tim adjusted the furred hood of the cloak so Jason could breathe again. “I need you lying a specific way so I can see what’s wrong.” 

“You can see beneath my skin?” That was both fascinating and kind of creepy. 

“Not exactly. It’s rather difficult to explain.”

“Try me.” 

“Your body emits heat, which I can see. Different parts shine brighter, warmer even. When your blood isn’t going where it’s supposed to, a different color appears. I need to see your entire back to determine where the circulation is poor and fix it.” 

Jason blinked, then shook his head. “Are you saying I’m made up of rainbow colors?” 

“To an extent, yes.” 

He knew without even looking that Tim wore his crooked little half smile. 

“Ah, fuck it. Just do whatever you need to.” 

From behind him, he heard the other man shuffling around. On purpose, no doubt. If he didn’t want to be heard, then he wouldn’t be. End of story. 

“This is a muscle relaxer that Vlad’s wife Lisa developed,” Tim explained, voice close as he sat down on the bed. “It started as a balm for arthritic hands, then she found other uses for it.” 

The human woman who started it all. “She must have been something, for Dracula to lose his shit the way he did when she was killed.” 

“I firmly believe she could have changed the course of history,” Tim stated, solemn as if he was lost in a memory. “But now we’ll never know.” 

They fell silent, musing on how different things would have been if one singular event had never happened. Or at least, Jason was. He’d still be an excommunicated priest, a Belmont, so nothing would have changed there. His life would still be one challenge after another, struggling to find a reason to keep going. To find meaning. 

Okay, so maybe he was more like Trevor than he thought. 

Jason was pulled from his thoughts as a weight settled over the back of his thighs. “Huh?” he started, but a cool hand at the base of his spine stole his words. 

“It’s easier this way,” Tim explained without prompting. The sharp tang of a medicinal herb hit the air, smelling of rosemary and something else Jason couldn’t quite place. “Just relax.” 

The vampire splayed his fingers out across the taught muscles and dug deep. Jason hissed as his back spasmed again, fighting against the pressure. His body suddenly felt as though it were on fire and he chased after the cool touch that could soothe it. 

“Relax,” Tim murmured. “This won’t work if you don’t.” 

“Easier said than done,” Jason muttered, burying his face in the fur. He gasped again when clever fingers discovered a particularly painful knot he hadn’t even known existed. “Jesus, shit. I think you found the motherlode.” 

The pain was excruciating as Tim kneaded and dug at the tissue. The medicinal scent grew stronger as the salve was worked into his skin and the muscle below. He wasn’t entirely certain how that happened, but damn, was it working. All the fight left him when the knot gave way, leaving him a shuddering mess as the tension across his lower back disappeared. 

“I think I love you,” Jason said, heaving a heavy sigh. “I haven’t felt this good in ages.” 

Tim chuckled as he continued to make his way up the spine. “Not even after the wonder duo? You didn’t shut up about them for nearly a week.” 

Jason’s brain came to a stop when he realized just how good the sex could have been without persistent back pain. “Well now you just ruined it.” 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Tim whispered, breath tickling his ear as he leaned in, then withdrew, dragging his fingers back down. “But first, don’t move.” 

“What?” Jason barely had a chance to say before Tim gripped him firmly and twisted. An audible pop was heard over the crackling of the fire and he gasped again at the sharp pain. “What the fuck did you just do? Break me?” 

“Give it a moment.” Tim’s hold didn’t let up. 

“Shit, you motherfucker…” he trailed off as yet more tension was released from his spine. “The hell?” 

Tim let go and traced up and down his spinal column again, this time tapping as he went. “One of your vertebrae was out of place, no doubt from the frequency in which you make friends with the nearest wall. Driving the carriage for as long as you have only compressed it more.” 

“That still doesn’t tell me what you just did.” 

“I put it back where it belonged.” 

Jason gaped and would have tried to shove the vampire off him if the effort wasn’t more than he wanted to deal with at the moment. “That’s my spine you’re fucking around with. I kinda need that.” 

“If I didn’t know what I was doing, I wouldn’t have done it,” Tim snapped. “I’ve spent more than a single lifetime learning about the human body. Try trusting me before hurling accusations with the uneducated bigotry I know you despise.” 

The accusation sealed Jason’s mouth shut; his retort nipped in the bud before it had a chance to bloom. Tim was right. He was absolutely right, and it stung because Jason prided himself on his open-mindedness. 

That talk with God was definitely overdue. Lust, pride, what else was he missing? 

“I’m sorry,” Jason said, low and determined. “That was uncalled for and I apologize. You’re trying to help me. The Lord knows you don’t have to, but you are.” 

“Apology accepted.” Tim patted the top of his ass with a light touch. “I strongly suggest staying in bed for the rest of the night and tomorrow. This needs a chance to heal and keeping the pressure off it is the best thing you can do to help it along.” 

“I hate bed rest.” Jason mentally ticked sex with a vampire from his to do list. “Beds are for sleeping or fucking, that’s it.” 

“Do you think you can get to sleep soon, or do you need some help?” 

He turned that over in his head, assessing before giving his reply. “I’m a hell of a lot more relaxed than I was, but I’m not tired. I’ve got some books in the carriage that can keep me occupied for a while, if you don’t mind fetching them. You have to go to the stable still, right?” He’d nicked them from Dracula’s castle before he left with Tim. With the state they’d left Alucard in, he doubted they’d be missed any time soon. 

“I do,” Tim replied, idly kneading the muscles of Jason’s ass. “But I’d like to try something else, if you don’t mind.” 

“You’re giving me a butt massage. I don’t think you’re going to hear any complaints out of me.” 

“Good.” 

Without the dull ache that had been plaguing him for weeks, Jason easily fell into a light doze. Strong fingers worked their way over the muscle and down the back of his thighs. Occasionally, Tim would shift over the back of his legs, depending on where he was heading next. It felt amazing and as he returned upward, his dick decided it was time to get in on the action too. He shifted a little, trying to hide his growing erection. 

Jason almost believed he’d gotten away with it when Tim’s thumbs started stroking along either side of his crack. 

“I’m not done with you yet, Belmont,” the vampire whispered. “I know just the trick to make you pass out on me, utterly blissed and brainless.” 

“Don’t you mean boneless?” he asked, but then a finger teased the entrance to his body, cool and slick, and _holy fuck…_ “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuuuuck. _Yes._ ” 

Tim spread his cheeks further, slipping the digit in, then dragging it out. “Are you sure you’re not that easy?” 

It took a moment to recalibrate his brain enough for a response. “Princess, I wanted to fuck you before we even left Dracula’s castle.” 

“Do you?” 

Jesus Christ, he wanted to have this discussion now? When one of those amazingly long and clever fingers was inside his body in a mock simulacrum of what he wanted from his cock? 

“I can give as good as I get,” Jason retorted, sucking in a breath as Tim found that special place and pressed against it. “I just like this better,” he finished, feeling as though he’d been punched in the gut in the best way possible. Beneath him, his cock was fully at attention, rigid and straining for more. 

“Noted.” A second finger joined the first, plumbing his depths slowly, in and out. “You’re so warm.” 

Jason felt flames roar through his veins as he tried to thrust against those amazing fingers that knew exactly where to touch, as he tried to give his aching cock some relief and friction. But he quickly found himself held down, utterly unable to move as Tim kept going. “How…?” 

“I am a mage, remember?” he was reminded. “If I don’t want you to move, then you won’t. You’re not allowed to undo all the hard work I did to fix your back.” 

“Oh, but you’re still giving me some fingers?” 

“If I had eaten before bringing you up here, you’d be getting more than just these. I can keep you from moving if I want to. Like now.” Tim emphasized his point with a particularly hard thrust that Jason couldn’t do anything about, except moan. “I want to bury myself in your body, taste it, revel in your blood as it flows through my veins.” 

“Yeeees,” Jason groaned, panting in time as Tim’s fingers caressed that one spot deep inside. “Yes, dammit.” 

“Do you mean it?” Tim paused, but didn’t withdraw his fingers. 

“I already said I want you to fuck me. Kinda assumed that implied biting too.” 

The world suddenly flipped upside down, or maybe that was just him, because the next thing Jason knew, he was on his back. Around him, the room was dark save for the faint light emitting through the grate on the woodstove, which he assumed was Tim’s doing because the Lord knew he didn’t need light the same way Jason did. But there was just enough light to make out the vampire kneeling between his thighs, his fingers still buried inside him, twisting and curling, driving him insane. 

Tim was mesmerizing, eyes shining with their own inner light. He was the master here, and Jason the supplicant waiting for the gift that was about to be bestowed. And oh, did he want it. 

A gentle touch at his knee had him instinctively bending it and cool lips traced the soft skin of his inner thigh in reward. His cock twitched, straining for something, _anything_ , to touch it. He needed it, needed it now.

“Timothy,” he bit out between gasps. “Please.” 

“Finally,” Tim breathed, his fingers stopping right against that special place and pressing hard. “Took you long enough.” 

Then, without any warning, he bit him, breaking through the skin with ease to find the strong artery concealed in the flesh of his leg. The brief flash of pain, followed by the dizzying rush of blood leaving his body, Jason’s hips twitched even as he tried to arch upward under his unseen restraints. 

He came on the second pull, untouched, the power of his release streaking up his chest. It was the headiest sensation he’d ever felt and dear God in Heaven, he wanted to do it again. 

It was with that thought in mind that Jason passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Jason came awake sluggishly, his body aching in a way he recognized all too well. He’d either gone toe-to-toe with some unholy fiends and taken a beating or gotten righteously fucked the night before. His memory wasn’t providing any images from a recent battle, so it had to be the latter. But Tim was the only person around he’d have done anything with, and he was too stuffed up to remove the stick from his ass and recognize a good time if it dangled in his face…

Wait a second.

He carefully bent a knee and pressed a hand to his inner thigh. It took a moment to find them, two small clotted wounds that perfectly matched the ones Tim’s fangs would produce if he’d bitten him.

When his brain finally caught up, he sat bolt upright in the bed, memories of the previous evening shoving their way to the forefront.

Holy shit. He’d been bitten and fucked by a vampire. Or had they gone that far? Jason distinctly remembered the bite, followed almost immediately by the best orgasm of his life, and then –

Nothing.

He reached behind him, fingers questing for his hole in search of evidence. But aside from what felt like some residue from the salve Tim had used on his back, there wasn’t anything. Did vampires even come like humans? That was a dumb question. Of course they did, otherwise Alucard wouldn’t have been born. Right?

Somehow, he had a feeling there was some hand-wavy science magic whatever involved there, something his febrile brain couldn’t possibly understand, especially at this early hour. That still didn’t answer the really important question, the one he was starting to hyperventilate over.

Okay. Okay. He could do this. He’d done dumber shit before, even if he was hard pressed to remember quite what at the moment. Jason took a few deep, calming breaths and clutched the crucifix that still hung from his neck. Dear God, what had he done? He… He was…

“Jesus Christ, get a hold of yourself,” he muttered. “You’re still the same idiot you were last night. Fucking someone you definitely shouldn’t have doesn’t change the fact, no matter how good it was.”

Why did the morning after always bring with it regrets? 

It was times like these that Jason wished he could kick himself. For all his talk about the great time he had with Wayne’s oldest ward, he’d done this exact same thing the following morning. He’d slunk silently from the rumpled bed and retreated to the austere room he’d been granted as Tim’s companion, tail between his legs like a kicked puppy as he questioned what the hell had just happened. Here, he didn’t have anywhere to hide and really, he should _not_ be feeling this way.

He’d been a willing participant every step of the way. Sober too. They’d even mutually agreed they wanted to all but screw each other’s brains out, so what the fuck was wrong with him? Last night was a taste of what was to come, assuming his back got the message and decided to behave.

Speaking of his back, it felt pretty damn good. Whatever Tim did last night before things went sideways, it had worked. For that, he owed him his thanks and gratitude, not guilt and frustration.

Where was he anyway?

Jason looked around the room. A trickle of daylight made its way in through the shuttered windows, just enough to give the room a hazy quality as dust motes danced in the still air. The bed was empty beside him, but he spotted Tim’s boots beside his own alongside the small wooden chest where the wash basin sat. His cloak rested over the side bed, trailing along the floor.

A sudden insight had Jason smirking as he gingerly swung his feet over the side closest to the window. He had a feeling that if he dared peek under the bed, he’d find a sleeping vampire curled up with the other pillow and a blanket. If his internal clock was right, he still had a few hours before the vampire would awaken and start bitching at him for not heeding his warning about staying in bed all day.

He couldn’t, not now. There was something he needed to do today, something he’d put off for far too long and for the most ridiculous of reasons.

God was only so patient with His servants and he’d left him waiting long enough.

* * *

Jason took one look at the large, obviously new, church at the center of town and frowned. It wasn’t overly ostentatious, and it was clear a lot of hard work had gone into the building of it, but in his eyes, it didn’t feel like a House of God. There was something lacking.

Trusting his gut, he continued his search, and after a few questions poised to the locals, he found what he was looking for.

The older, original church was on the edge of town, still within the city walls, but just barely. From the look of it, the back of the church abutted against the stonework, so there had to have been some maneuvering back in the day to make sure it was included. Unlike the other church, this one still gave off a sense of peace and tranquility, something Jason’s overwrought mind so desperately needed.

Stepping over the threshold, his instincts were immediately proven right.

This was holy ground, properly sanctified and blessed by those who truly believed. A place where creatures of the night could never enter, even if the walls around him crumbled to dust. It was more than just the church that made this a holy place. The very ground itself contributed to making it so.

Small compared to the larger one in the city square, this church was clearly built for a time when fewer souls were in need of tending. Upon entering, Jason reached for the font he knew without even looking would be there. A place like this could never be abandoned, and as he crossed himself with the holy water and prayed, he felt at peace.

Crossing the narrow narthex, he made his way into the nave. It was narrow and could seat maybe fifty people if he were being generous. But right now, the church was empty save for himself and an old woman murmuring prayers in a pew off to the right.

Not wanting to disturb her, Jason knelt briefly and slipped into a pew on the left. For the penitence he owed God, he ought to be kneeling and groveling in the transept before the altar. However, he planned to spend the rest of his day here if need be, and he was fairly certain his back wouldn’t appreciate it, even if there were those in Rome who would argue otherwise.

From his pouch, he removed his rosary, the beads polished and well-worn from long years of use before this particular one came into his possession. It had belonged to his mother, Catherine Belmont, and had been her gift to him upon his leaving for seminary.

If only she could see him now. It had been a blessing that she passed away before the family name became the equivalent of a curse across all of Wallachia.

Jason kissed the small crucifix with reverence and made the sign of the cross. Then, with a quick glance up at the altar and Christ on his cross, he started with his prayers.

_“I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth…”_

* * *

A few hours later, Jason stirred as he finished the final prayer in the rosary. He’d lost count of how many times he’d gone around it, but that wasn’t important. The journey was what mattered, the meditation he’d fallen into, and the conversation he’d had with God.

Well, conversation was one way of putting it. This implied there was a dialogue between them, which was far from the case. In reality, it closer resembled a child babbling at his parents, spouting gibberish while hoping for some sign that he was being listened to.

Jason knew without a doubt that he’d been heard. The vision God had gifted him with was a blatant sign of that. He had his marching orders. It was time to stop fucking around and get to work.

He settled back in the pew and sighed, his back and the rest of his body aching from holding the same position for so long. In the quiet confines of the nave, the grumbling of his stomach was a loud intruder. He’d purposefully neglected to eat before leaving the inn, preferring to break his fast after completing his prayers.

“Finally finished?” a low voice spoke from beside him.

Jason glanced over at the priest sitting a few feet away. He was an older man, more white of hair than black with kind brown eyes. “Yes, I am. My apologies for taking up so much space, Father.”

“It’s quite alright, my son.” The priest cast a somber look at him. “Your dedication speaks to a heavy burden. The confessional is open to you if you have need of it.”

The offer was appreciated, but the confessional was forever closed to him thanks to an edict from Rome. “Thank you, but I feel much better now.” Jason tucked his rosary away and sealed the pouch. “Besides, if I were to share what I’ve been up to, the rest of your hair would turn white.”

A glint of humor entered the priest’s dark eyes. “I suspect that any penance I could give you would be light in comparison to what you believe you deserve.”

“I think my suffering will continue for a good long while.” Jason grimaced, placing a hand at the small of his back as he tried to stretch. Maybe he should have knelt after all. Tim would be ripping him a new one when he returned to the inn. “I haven’t made the brightest of decisions lately.”

“I have often wondered if physical suffering is a visible sign of moral turpitude,” the priest commented, offering a hand to assist him to his feet.

“That’s an interesting thought, Father.” Jason accepted the help, wincing as his back protested loudly that it was quite fine where it was, thank you. “And one I’d like to discuss at length when I have more time. For now, suffice it to say that the only depravities to which I’ve succumbed involve my choice in bed partners. Strange times and all that.”

That was putting it lightly. Still, he hadn’t gone up in flames yet, so God must not be too pissed off at him. The thought made him feel better about some of his life choices. Some, not all, because that was asking a little much.

“The sins of the flesh and I are no strangers,” the priest replied. “Both my own and of others.”

Jason gave the man an assessing look. It was an interesting admission for one who’d taken holy orders. “I take it you’re newer to the cloth then?”

“Relatively compared to some. I took my vows when I was closer to thirty after a rather wild youth.” The priest’s smile contained a flash of pride. “Unlike most men of the priesthood, I knew precisely what I was giving up.”

“Makes me wonder which seminary you went to,” Jason responded. “The stories I could tell you about mine…” he trailed off, realizing what he’d said.

The smile morphed into a grin. “I knew you were a man of the Church. There’s an air about you that gives it away, even if you aren’t wearing the collar.”

Dammit.

Jason sobered, thinking hard and fast before he replied. The last thing he needed was some local priest getting too smart for his own good. “My vows and I parted ways a long time ago,” he finally said. “But that doesn’t mean my faith and I did.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” the priest replied, nodding firmly. “In these dark times, faith is often the only thing that sustains us.”

“Amen to that.” Jason held out his hand. “I appreciate your time.”

The priest accepted and shook it with a firm grip. “Where will you go from here?”

“For now, the marketplace. I’ve got a shit ton of salt I need to buy.”

* * *

Considering the size of the town and its relative state of repair compared to other towns in close proximity to a night horde attack, its merchants were annoyingly low when it came to salt.

Jason frowned, watching as the merchant he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes haggling with put together his order. He knew there was more salt stored away somewhere in the confines of the shop, but despite the good coin he was paying, the man was being stingy.

Fucker. He was doing the work of God, not salting the fields.

Still, the amount he’d managed to buy with the money he’d nicked from Tim’s coin pouch before leaving the inn earlier was more than he was able to carry at the moment. His back was injured, not his brain, so upon exiting the shop, he handed the sack to the boy he’d hired to carry it all for him.

“That’s the last of it,” Jason said. “I’m staying at the _Lord’s Blessing_ , let’s go.”

The tow-headed boy nodded. “You’re the one with the coin. Just don’t ask me to throw this all at the Mayor. I have to live here, you know.”

“Nah, I have better plans for it.” First and foremost, finding a larger sack to carry it all in. Exorcising salt was tedious work, so why work harder when he could work smarter?

But that was a problem to deal with tomorrow.

Back at the inn, he purposefully avoided looking up at any of the windows as he led the boy into the courtyard where the coach sat off to the side. It was doubtful that Tim was lurking behind the shutters watching for him, but Jason still felt the hair prickling on his neck as he turned the corner. He and his survival instincts needed to have a long talk too, apparently.

Despite that, he knew exactly where he’d be tonight—lying in bed with his thighs spread wide for whatever Tim wanted to do with him.

After paying the boy and sending him on his way, Jason eyed the taproom before making an about face toward the bathhouse. He’d eaten during his foray into the market and while the walking did help alleviate the pain in his back, he suspected taking another hot bath might help more. Bonus if that little bit of self-care kept a certain vampire from bitching at him.

The same young woman from last night worked the small counter. “How’s your back?” she asked, giving him the onceover.

“It’s more tender than I’d like,” Jason offered as he placed a few coppers on the wood slat. “Was hoping a long soak in some hot water would help.”

Her full lips quirked upward into that saucy smile again and her dark eyes flashed. “I’m certain it will.” She leaned over revealing full, round breasts that were barely contained by her blouse. “Would you like me to wash your back, sir?”

His gaze dropped to the creamy skin and the hint of a rosy nipple peeking out from beneath the thin fabric. There was no mistaking her intentions and on just about any other man, it probably would have worked. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be a very active participant,” he replied, meeting her eyes.

“I can work with that.” She smirked, picking up the coppers. One she traced over the curve of her breast before tucking it in her bodice.

Jason chuckled, amused by her persistence. “I have no doubt you can. But that area tenses up during certain activities and I really don’t want to deal with another spasm if I can avoid it. Hurts like hell.”

The young woman pouted prettily and straightened. “That is a very good reason, so I’ll let you off the hook this time. Follow me and I’ll get you a basin with some hot water to rinse with.”

It wasn’t long before Jason was left alone in the bathhouse. At this time of day, it was lit naturally, conserving candles and oil for the few lamps. The windows were placed high near the ceiling and the long eaves outside prevented any actual sunlight from entering while still giving the room at a decent ambiance of peace.

He stripped and sat down on the stool, carefully reaching over to dip the clean rag in the hot water.

“She likes you,” a voice spoke from the shadows. “Brazen little thing.”

Jason stiffened and dropped the rag, wincing under the flash of pain. “That a problem?” he snapped, forcing his body to relax.

Tim stepped away from the wall, wearing only his trousers and a loose-fitting shirt. The laces were undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his pale chest. He could move about during the day, that much Jason knew from their travels, but seeing him out in the open like this was more than a little concerning. Especially since his raven black hair was uncovered, revealing the pointed tips of his ears.

“Not especially,” the vampire replied, kneeling before him and picking up the scrap of fabric. He dipped it into the basin and reached for the soap. “I know where your preferences lie.”

“What are you doing here?” Jason asked as he allowed the other man to take hold of his hand. If Tim wanted to give him a bath, far be it for him to complain. “It’s broad daylight.”

“You’d be amazed what being able to walk in the shadows allows me to do and when. The things I can see and hear without anyone knowing I’m even there,” Tim replied, voice low. “Why are you up and about? I told you to stay in bed. I even brought your books up last night after you fell asleep.”

Jason sighed, quietly acknowledging that perhaps Tim had been right about taking it easy today. Like he’d ever admit it to the annoying fucker, but it was the sentiment that counted. “I told you. Beds are for sleeping or fucking. If I wanted to read, I’d have needed to open the shutters and we both know what a fantastic idea that would have been when you woke up.”

Crispy fried vampire, no thanks. The ash from them made the worst smears on his clothes too.

“It’s called situational awareness,” Tim retorted, switching arms. “Which you seem to sadly lack. You’re injured, Belmont. More than you care to admit.”

“No, I’m pretty sure my back is constantly reminding me of the fact now.” Jason rolled his broad shoulders, which helped a little. “Look, I just want to wash up quickly and forget all my troubles in the pool for a while. Think you can allow me that, princess?”

Tim rose to his feet, eyes hard as ice as he stared down. “You’re an idiot,” he pronounced.

“Like I don’t know that already.”

Rather than disappearing on him like he thought he would, the vampire stepped around him and started running the damp cloth down Jason’s spine. “You’ve stiffened up again.”

“Yeah, well. Kinda got lost in my prayers. Those pews aren’t made for comfort.”

“I knew it,” Jason heard the vampire mutter. “I can smell the purity radiating from you. Did you ask for forgiveness for what we did last night?”

“I went because I needed to have a talk with God,” he replied plainly. The purity bit he wasn’t touching in the slightest. Had to be the holy water. “Simple as that.”

Tim didn’t need to know about his crisis earlier. That was for him and him alone. Well, him and God because he didn’t keep anything from Him, even if it did sometimes take a while to bring Him into his confidence.

“You didn’t go to confess your sins?” Tim prodded, sounding distant and slightly pissed off.

“Do you think that I consider getting fucked by you a sin?” Jason asked, wondering where this was all coming from. “Hate to break it to you, but my sexual habits put me in God’s bad graces long before you came around. I don’t plan to stop anytime soon either, so piss off or I won’t let you fuck me later.”

Cool hands came to rest on either side of his hips, and he shivered as the vampire pressed his brow against his spine. “I’m sorry,” Tim’s voice whispered into his skin. “I thought your going to church was because you regretted what happened between us.”

“It might have spurred me into going sooner than I would have.” Jason was willing to admit that much. “But I was long overdue for a good talk even before we met. Instead of getting yelled at, I got my marching orders, so I can’t really complain.”

Tim jerked away, releasing him. “God speaks to you?”

“Pretty sure I’d go deaf if He did that. No, He showed me where I need to go and what I have to do.” Jason frowned, remembering how much salt he still had to get. “It’s something I’ve had happen to me since I was a child.”

Tim let out a slow breath despite not needing to breathe. “I don’t know if you’re actually a holy man or touched in the head.”

“I’ll settle for a little bit of both. My visions were part of the reason my family was excommunicated in the first place.” He was still grateful for the fact that his mother hadn’t been alive to see her home go up in flames, that she was still buried on hallowed ground, even if he had to visit periodically to make sure it stayed that way.

“No wonder the light shines so brightly in you,” Tim stated after another long silence where Jason could feel his eyes burning into every visible inch of him, assessing and weighing. “Your blood is the finest vintage of wine that has ever passed between my lips.”

“Thanks?” Jason wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Just don’t forget I’m still an excommunicated priest. Pretty sure there’s someone else out there that tastes better than me.”

Lips touched the back of his neck, just below the silver chain of his crucifix. “I doubt that. Those fools in Rome can’t see beyond the end of their own noses to see what they’ve let slip from their fingers. And now, you’re mine.”

Jason jerked and glared over his shoulder at the all too amused vampire whose face was only inches away from his own. “Excuse me, princess, but I belong to myself. Sheesh, let a guy bite you once and now he wants to move in permanently.”

Rather than unleashing some scathing retort, Tim sealed their mouths together, stealing his breath under the onslaught.

The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Cool, yes. Cold even, as Tim traced patterns into his bare skin as he acquainted himself with the inside of Jason’s mouth. His tongue darted in, gentle at first, then stronger as his lips firmed. Jason moaned, desiring nothing more than to be consumed by the icy fire emanating from his lover. But he wasn’t one to just sit there and take it, no matter how good it felt. He chased after Tim’s tongue with his own before a brief flash of pain forced him to withdraw.

Tim licked his lips, cleaning the red trail Jason left behind when he nicked his tongue on one of those insanely sharp fangs. “You taste utterly _divine_. I want to bathe in your blood, feel it embracing every part of my body and filling it with life.”

Um, _no thank you._

“Is that supposed to be a turn on?” Jason leaned away as much as he could. “Because I’m pretty sure you just killed whatever boner I was starting to get.”

To his surprise, the vampire started laughing, quiet huffs that he couldn’t contain. It was the most human he’d ever appeared, falling back on his ass and curling up on the wet floor as bloody tears beaded in the corner of his eyes.

“Jason Belmont, don’t ever change.” Tim wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, leaving red smears behind. “I want you to stay just as you are until God decides to take you away from me.”

“You don’t want to try and change me?” The thought held a brief moment of appeal before Jason shoved it aside. His attraction to the vampire was growing by the hour, but the knowledge that if he gave in would mean he would never know the peace of God’s grace again held him back.

Tim slowly shook his head. “No. If I did, you would lose that light. You can’t see or feel it, but if I were to extinguish that for any reason, I don’t think either of us would ever be able to forgive me.” He knelt and inched his way forward to rest his hands on Jason’s knees, parting them so he could slide between them, pressing their bodies together. Only the thin fabric of Tim’s shirt protected him from the silver crucifix still hanging from Jason’s neck.

“I could never take that away from you,” he whispered as their lips came together once more.

In that moment, Jason knew what it meant to fall in love. Boy, was he ever fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks about exorcising salt, just trust me on this one. I've done my homework.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a much better place to tongue wrestle with Tim than on a stool in a bath house. 

“I think my ass is falling asleep,” Jason murmured, withdrawing from his lover. “Care to move this to the bath?” 

“I would prefer the bed, but you need to soak.” Tim rose to his feet and offered a hand, looking like some kind of fallen angel with all his ethereal beauty. 

Jason wasn’t going to argue that, but he was ready to lay claim to the bared collarbone revealed by Tim’s unlaced shirt. “Come with me?” he asked, accepting the help gratefully. 

Sitting that low to the ground hadn’t been a good idea. 

“I think you overdid it today,” Tim commented as he guided him the few feet to the sunken pool. 

“No arguments there.” Jason let out a low moan as he stepped into the warm water. “Fuck, this might just be better than sex.” 

“Are you sure about that?” 

“At the moment, yes.” 

Rather than taking a seat, Jason waded a few steps out toward the center of the pool, giving him some space to lie back and float. The relief was nearly instantaneous, and he made sure his groan echoed the sentiment. 

Distantly, he was aware of Tim joining him in the water. The vampire appeared to crave warmth, so it was unsurprising. 

“Tell me about your vision?” he asked, taking hold of one of Jason’s feet and pressing into the flesh with a firm touch. 

It took a moment to gather his thoughts as the pressure on his foot sent pleasurable shivers across his body. “I’m pretty sure the town I saw was Brăila. Utterly decimated save for a few souls trying to survive. But that’s not what He wants me to take care of.” 

The logistics of it all still boggled the mind, but perhaps Tim would have an idea. 

“What is it?” the vampire asked after he was silent for too long, still rubbing the bottom of his foot. 

“I’m pretty sure He wants me to purify the river.” Jason frowned, remembering what he’d been shown. “He showed me something that happened the night Sypha wrested control of Dracula’s castle. There was a vampire woman, white of hair and in a red dress, with a man of similar coloring, but younger and wearing a uniform of some sort.” 

Tim hissed in sudden fury. “Carmilla and Hector. What were they doing?” 

At his words, the details of the vision suddenly made more sense. 

“There was a body garbed in the robes of a priest. A high ranking one I think, but there was so much blood on him I couldn’t tell for sure. The Forge Master used his ability to bring the priest back to life but didn’t turn him into a night creature. Instead, he had him turn that stretch of the river into holy water.” 

“What happened next?” 

Jason closed his eyes, trying to remember. “The next part is a bit of a blur, like He was skipping past something He didn’t deem important. When the vision cleared, He showed me the river again. It’s sick, perverted by what was done. He wants me to purify and heal it.” 

There was silence for a time before Tim spoke. “You truly are the most incredible human I have ever met. To think that you have the power to—” 

“It’s not power,” Jason interjected. “It’s faith. And I’m not saying that my faith is any greater or lesser than that of another person. I don’t know why God shows me these things. But He does and all I can do is His bidding.” 

The option to do otherwise had never been on the table. 

“I would argue that,” Tim replied, his expression thoughtful as he switched feet. “In the back of most people’s minds, there’s often a sliver of doubt about if God is real and is listening. They may not consciously recognize it, but it’s there. You, however, do not have that disbelief. You _know_.” 

“Or I could just be insane,” Jason offered, relaxing into the vampire’s touch. Who knew having his feet rubbed would feel this damned good? This was definitely something he could get used to. 

“You are many things, Jason Belmont, but insane is not one of them.” 

He scoffed; the response instinctual as there had been many times over the years where he questioned precisely that. To this day, he would argue the point out of sheer pigheadedness. “You say that without knowing how much salt I had to buy with your money earlier,” he offered in hopes of diverting the topic. 

“My money?” Tim’s tone dropped. 

A sharp nail dragged up the underside of Jason’s foot, making him flail around in the water before steadying himself on the step. “How else was I supposed to pay for it?” 

“You could have _asked._ ” 

He grinned, already knowing his response would piss Tim off. “I didn’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep. You know what you’re like when you first wake up, princess.” 

“What am I like?” 

“A whiny little bitch.”

The dunking he received was worth it.

* * *

“How much salt do you need?” Tim asked a little while later, combing through Jason’s damp hair with his fingers. He was seated on the step while Jason still floated, the top of his head bumping against Tim’s shoulder. It was soothing, helping him unwind just as much as the water itself. 

“I have no idea. But I doubt I have enough.” Jason relayed his little adventure with the spice merchant earlier. “Pretty sure that man has more he just didn’t want to sell me.” 

Fucker. He was on a mission from God, didn’t that count for something in these parts? 

“I’ll see what I can do once the sun goes down further.” 

“Thanks.” He meant it too. Tim didn’t have to help him with this; it served no purpose in the greater scheme of his own personal quest. Speaking of… “When do you want to hit the road?” 

“Depends.” Tim’s fingers trailed down to his neck, skipping over the silver chain to trace at his shoulders. “When do you want to brave that coach seat again?” 

Jason was now firmly convinced half the issues he’d been having with his back was due to that traveling coach. “You paid for three nights here, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“Let me see how I feel in the morning. I can start getting shit together then. What I really want to do before we leave is speak with some of the town guards, see what they say about the road between here and Brăila.” 

Among other things. He was certain they’d been collecting tales from the survivors too. The stories were growing more and more horrific the closer they got. It wouldn’t surprise him if Brăila would soon be going down in history as a cursed town, eradicated from the face of the earth by the vampires. 

“I can start that tonight,” Tim replied, tracing the outside of his arms. Who’d have thought the aloof vampire was so tactile? “I am supposed to be a minstrel, after all. A few songs and well-placed pints of ale will loosen tongues.” 

“Better start practicing then. Your singing tends toward the depressing.” It wasn’t that Tim didn’t have a good voice. He most definitely did. But his choice in music left a lot to be desired 

Hands tightened around his arms warningly. “One more word about my singing and I will drown you.” 

“And waste all the hard work you’ve put into my back?” Jason retorted. “You want my ass too much to risk that.”

“You think so highly of yourself.” 

“Damn right, I do. Now if you’re done being a pissy little princess, I think I want to get out of here. I’m starting to look like a shriveled old hag.” 

When it came, he totally deserved that dunking too.

* * *

After relearning how to breathe, Jason gingerly left the heated water behind and cast about for his clothes. 

Tim had already put his pants back on and was fiddling with the laces of his shirt. “I’ll go on ahead and make an appearance in the taproom,” he was saying. “If I stay in our room all day, it might raise some questions.” 

“Will you be okay?” Jason asked, frowning as he realized he’d have to bend over to pick up his things. 

“I’m in here, aren’t I?” Tim’s lips quirked as he took pity and handed him the clothing. “As long as I avoid direct sunlight and windows, I’ll be fine.” 

“If you say so.” 

They finished dressing and as Jason made his way to the door, he paused, looking back at his lover who was heading in the opposite direction. 

“What are you doing? The door is over here.” 

“In case you’d forgotten, I didn’t pay to be in here,” Tim replied, walking into the darkest corner of the room. “It’s also broad daylight, so I’ll take the shadows back upstairs.” 

With that cryptic remark, the vampire completely disappeared. 

Jason let out a low whistle. That was…unexpected. His gut told him this was a display of magecraft, like how Tim had gotten him upstairs the night before, but seeing it firsthand still blew the mind. When his task was over, spending some time in the Belmont Hold parsing through the knowledge of his ancestors sounded like a fantastic idea. Tim would probably enjoy it too, if he didn’t decide to fuck off to Styria right away. 

Outside the bathhouse, he paused, tilting his head back to simply enjoy the sun warming him through. It was easy to forget the sheer power of the light, of its ability to give life to everything around him. Did Tim miss this? What went through his head when he was up and about during the day, unable to even step outside to feel the caress of a warm breeze against his skin? 

The thought was humbling as it reminded him that his lover implied he hadn’t been turned willingly. Someone else out there had thought him hauntingly beautiful too and taken that for themselves. 

Who was Timothy Drake? What was his story? The vampire didn’t exactly volunteer information, but he would answer direct questions when they were presented to him. For the most part, because Jason definitely remembered a couple times in the last few weeks where he told the man to fuck himself off the closest cliff for keeping secrets. 

Would the change in their dynamics mean a loosening of his tongue? Call it what you will, but Jason felt the desire to know more about the person he was now sharing a bed with. 

Only time would tell.

Inside the inn, he intended to go directly to their room, but the soft strains of a lute lured him into the taproom instead. As his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, he spotted Tim seated on a small platform on the far side of the room, tuning his instrument while joking with a few men who were already well into their cups. Their exaggerated motions and loud voices as they called out songs grated on Jason’s nerves. 

The baggy velvet cap concealed the vampire’s ears once more, lending a ludicrous air that injected a semblance of realism to the role he played. From the moment they’d met, Tim had always been impeccably dressed, often bordering on fussy. The more relaxed side he’d seen since they entered town was refreshing.

Across the room, their eyes met and Tim gave him a saucy wink, the gesture so out of place that Jason stumbled back into the hall. 

Christ have mercy, he needed to go lie down before he did something stupid, like go sit at Tim’s feet casting forlorn looks like a lovesick maiden. At least he didn’t have a bosom to heave, because odds were good he’d be doing that too. 

With those thoughts in mind, he retreated upstairs for a well-earned nap.

* * *

Jason awoke an indeterminate amount of time later to the sound of the shutters being thrown back, revealing a late afternoon sky taking on hints of twilight. 

Startled, he jerked up, cursing. “What the fuck?” 

“I need you to get up. Now.” Tim yanked on the covers, pausing briefly to take note of his nude form. “And get dressed.” 

“What lit a fire under your ass?” Jason growled, casting about for his clothes. “I’m supposed to be resting, remember?” 

“A party of refugees arrived from Brăila a couple of hours ago. One of the city guards stopped in for a drink and was telling the innkeeper about it.” 

He paused in putting on his trousers. “You’re shitting me.” 

“I shit you not,” was Tim’s response. He never swore, so hearing the words, even mockingly, was jarring. “They sought sanctuary at one of the churches. I didn’t know a town this size warranted two.” 

“The old one grew too small to meet the needs of the town.” Jason frowned, remembering his experience with the newer church earlier. Holy ground, his ass. There was no doubt in his mind that Tim could pass through those doors unharmed. “Did the guard say which one?” 

“The old one?” 

“Great.” Jason stood and reached for his shirt. “The priest there is a good man who actually gives a damn. Think he took a shine to me too, so I should be able to speak with these guys without any interference.” 

Tim tossed him his tunic. “Fresh tidings will be a welcome change after weeks of rumor.” 

“No kidding.” Jason glanced at the open window and the darkening blue sky beyond. “You coming with me?” 

“I will do my best.” Tim draped his heavy cloak over his shoulders and removed a pair of fine fitting gloves from a hidden pocket. “It’s lighter than I prefer outside, but the shadows grow longer. If I need to retreat into the dark corners of the town, know that I am with you and watching, biding my time.” 

“Keep talking like that, princess, and I might start to think you like me or something.”

Tim tangled his fingers in the laces of Jason’s shirt, tugging him close until their lips just brushed. This close, the vampire’s eyes took on a crystalline hue as they gazed at him with intensity. “Or something,” he murmured before kissing him with a heated fervor that belied the normally cold and distant façade he presented to the world. 

There was a passionate nature beneath the surface, of that Jason now had no doubt. The time would soon come where they’d learn the extent of it together.

* * *

Tim stuck to the shadows as much as he could, seemingly hopscotching his way through the market square to avoid actual sunlight from touching his skin. The tall, steep roofs around them provided long shadows, and as they grew closer to the new church, it too provided additional cover. Still, the vampire hung back when Jason stepped forward to enter the baker’s shop. 

“Gimme a silver.”

“Why?” 

“A group of people like that, they’re going to strain the resources of a small parish church. The fact that they’re there tells me the larger one turned them away, probably under the pretext that they’d feel more comfortable at this one—no doubt the priests think they’re cursed.” 

“Do you believe they are?” Tim’s eyes seemingly glowed from beneath the broad-brimmed hat he’d swapped the shapeless velvet one for. It was like he had a hat for every occasion. 

“I think they’re probably in need of a good bath and a hearty meal.” Jason held out his hand. “So stop being stingy and gimme.” 

A silver went a long way in purchasing loaves that had sat on a shelf all day and the baker’s wife was glad to be rid of them from the look of it. His cloak turned into a makeshift sack as he hadn’t quite thought far enough ahead to bring his own. Whatever. A few crumbs never hurt anyone, and he’d always been fond of the scent of bread. It conjured images of hearth and home, of a simpler time when it had been simply him and his mother before she returned to her ancestral home with her young son. 

When Jason emerged with his bundle, he found Tim waiting for him with a large package of his own. “What’s that?” 

“Salt. You said you needed more.” The vampire nodded to the familiar shop next door where Jason had spent so much time haggling earlier. “And you weren’t kidding about how stingy he is. I’m pretty sure he’d cheat his own mother.”

“I still think he’s hoarding it.” 

“Probably. Once the port at Brăila is open again, he’ll have no choice but to drop his prices in order to remain competitive. Assuming the others do too.”

Jason shook his head, disgusted by the whole thing. “I’m offering good coin _now._ He’s betting on a situation that won’t happen after I’m done.”

“Yes, but it will take time to rebuild.”

“Why are you always the voice of logic? You never let me get a good rant in.”

“One of us has to be the adult here and it sure isn’t going to be you.”

“Prick.”

* * *

Approaching the small church, Tim came to an abrupt halt. “This is holy ground.” 

Jason paused, curious to see what the vampire would do. 

He stepped forward a few more paces and frowned, cocking his head slightly to the side as though analyzing the unseen barrier keeping him out. “I could break through this,” he stated, casting a level glance Jason’s way. “But it would take time.” 

“Gee, way to give me the warm fuzzies.” He should have known Tim would take this as some kind of challenge. Idiot. 

“If I were a lesser vampire, or even a few centuries younger, this would keep me out.” 

“Yeah, you’re definitely showing your age. You even have a wrinkle right between your eyebrows.” 

Tim glared. “It’s called a frown line.” 

“Right, keep telling yourself that.” 

“Remind me why we’re traveling together again?” 

“You want my ass.” Jason watched as Tim retreated a few steps, stepping into the shadows cast by the city wall. 

“I’m starting to wonder if it’s worth the effort,” the vampire retorted, hefting the sack of salt. “I can listen from a distance. Play nice.” Tim’s smile was fond as he disappeared into the shadows. 

“I’m always nice,” Jason muttered, rolling his eyes as he continued down the road toward the church. “Fucking jackass.” 

He ignored the icy chill that made its way down his spine, almost as though Tim were tracing it, reminding him that he was still close. 

Like he could forget. 

In the churchyard, three wagons formed a half-circle against the coming darkness. A fire crackled cheerfully, casting light and its own shadows on haggard figures who watched his approach with wary suspicion. 

The priest bustled out of the church entrance with his arms full just as Jason entered the small courtyard. His face lit up at the sight of him. “Welcome, my friend! I had a feeling I’d be seeing you again.” 

Jason rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah, I just wish it was under better circumstances.” He spoke in a lower voice. “I need to speak to these people about the road to Brăila and the conditions of the town itself. Think you can help grease the way?” 

“If that’s food you’re carrying, that will take care of it for you. They’re starving.” 

“Fresh from the bakery.” 

“Come with me and I’ll introduce you—what is your name, friend?” The priest cocked his head inquisitively. 

Lying to the man soured Jason’s stomach, but it wasn’t as though he could just announce he was a Belmont. “Jason Todd,” he said instead, using the name he’d technically been born with. His father hadn’t given him much, but he did give him that. After he’d left and Catherine returned home, Jason had taken the name Belmont and never looked back. 

“Josef Patric,” the priest replied with a nod, reminding him that he hadn’t asked for the man’s name earlier. 

He’d had a lot on his mind at the time, he could be excused. 

Father Patric led Jason into the shelter of the wagons. “Friends, this is Jason Todd, a man of the Church who would have words with you about your recent travels.” 

An older man looked up from the fire, weariness sitting heavy on his shoulders. “We’ve told our tale already.” 

Jason lowered his bundle to the ground and let one of the corners drop, revealing the contents. “I’m sure you did just to get within these walls. But my companion and I are aiming for Brăila and would like to know more about what we’re getting ourselves into.” 

Another man snorted in derision. “Death, that’s what you’re getting into. There’s nothing what lives in Brăila anymore but death and the Devil himself.” 

That much he’d heard, more than once, on the road here. “I’ve been through Hell before,” Jason offered quietly, keeping his tone level. “The night creatures and I have done many a dance together, that much I will say. But forewarned is forearmed, as they say, so I’d appreciate it if you could be a bit more specific.” 

“What do we get out of it?” 

“Bread that won’t crack your gums.” Jason knelt and opened the bundle. It wasn’t much in the greater scheme of things, but if he needed to filch some coins from Tim’s pouch to leave with Father Patric before he left, then so be it. 

Tim wouldn’t mind, not if it got them the information they wanted. 

A woman stepped out from one of the wagons, her eyes shot through with red. “Bread won’t save my Marie.” 

Jason rocked back on his heels, not wanting to impose on what was clearly a mother’s grief. “What happened?” 

“Damn vampires,” came another voice, biting back a curse. “They came in the night, a full army of them. Slaughtered half the town before their general got them under control. They roped us into pens like lambs waiting for slaughter.” 

“And they did,” spoke the first man. “Every night for nearly a month, they’d round up the lot of us and feed.” 

“How did you survive?” Jason asked, allowing Father Patric to dole out the bread rather than approach. He clearly wasn’t welcome here and didn’t want to push his luck. 

“They left the night after the blue lights,” the woman replied, much to his surprise. “Took one last good feed and marched off.” She removed the scarf knotted around her neck, revealing jagged red tears in her skin. Bite marks from a vampire, or multiple ones from the look of it. “All of us have been bitten, more than once. After the first night, they took a bit more care to make the rest of us last.” 

Father Patric caught Jason’s eye. “The main church cleansed them with holy water before sending them to me,” he said in a low tone. 

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Father Patric’s was better. 

“The road here is crawling with night creatures,” one of the men spoke up, tearing into a small roll. “They’re moving away from Brăila now that there isn’t anything left to kill. We were seven wagons strong when we left.” 

Only three had survived. 

“The town watch is on the alert,” Father Patric said. “There have been reports from the outlying holdings about the night creatures attacking sheep and cattle. The mayor is already calling for people to take shelter within the walls.” 

“Won’t be enough,” the first man stated, shaking his head. “You need Hunters, like those cursed Belmonts, to be rid of them all.” 

Jason bit his tongue and turned his attention on the woman. “Is Marie your daughter?” he asked, pitching his voice low so as not to disrupt the dispute rising between the men and Father Patric about the history of his family. 

She shook her head. “My sister’s daughter, God rest her soul. She’s all I have left.” 

“That’s a feeling I know well,” Jason said, thinking of Trevor. “I’ve a cousin left from my mother’s brother, but that’s all.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Was Marie one of the last victims of the vampires before they left?” 

The woman nodded, tears rimming her eyes. She blinked quickly, refusing to let them fall. 

That was another sentiment Jason related to more than he cared to admit. 

“Weak, pale, veins standing out against her skin?” he started listing off a number of symptoms common to a vampire bite that didn’t immediately kill its victim. 

“Yes,” she replied. “How do you know that?” 

“I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with vampires before,” Jason said, rising to his feet. “Let me have a word with Father Patric. There’s something that might help if we can get her to drink it in time.” 

It would do all of them good, but he kept his mouth shut on that point. 

“Bless you.” The woman reached out and snagged the sleeve of his shirt. “Bless you for caring enough to even try.” 

Nodding, Jason stepped away, gesturing to Father Patric that he’d like a private word. The argument amongst the others was still intense, so he left the fireside and retreated into the shelter of the church. 

The same peace fell over him that he’d felt before and he paused, dipping his fingers in the font and relaxing as the power of it soothed his nerves. A few candles were lit around the altar, but aside from those, only the swiftly fading twilight illuminated the interior of the building. But in this small sanctuary, he did not fear the darkness. 

“Tim, I’m not sure if you can hear me in here, but I’m going to need a few pieces of silver,” he murmured before crossing himself and taking a seat in the pews closest to the door. 

Might as well get a prayer in while he was at it. He knew he’d need all the help he could get. 

“Jason,” Father Patric’s voice echoed quietly through the room. “What is it?” 

He leaned back in the pew as the priest stood over him. “I’m getting you some coin. If that girl’s going to have a shot at making it through the night without more than some half-assed holy water from the main church, she’ll need help.” 

“How so?” 

“There’s a recipe my family always swore by,” Jason replied, taking a moment to recall the ingredients. “Ox bone broth steeped with garlic and onion. And ginger if we had some.” The Belmonts always did, but the root was not exactly common outside the port cities in this part of the world. “You can toss in other vegetables or meat or whatever to make it palatable, but if we can make up a strong broth from these ingredients, then all of those people outside will be the better for it.” 

“Will it save the child?” Father Patric asked, intent. 

Jason shrugged. “Hard to say, but it won’t hurt. Her aunt was right. She needs more than just bread if she’s to survive.” 

The priest nodded slowly. “I will see what I can do, even if I have to rouse the butcher myself.” 

“You’ll have the coin to make it worth his while. My traveling companion is many things, but short of coin never seems to be one of them.” Jason stood and stretched, his back reminding him that these pews sucked. 

Instead of exiting the church, he walked down the aisle and knelt before the altar to pray. 

Not for himself, but for the people outside, the dying little girl, and the souls lost in Brăila. 

“…Amen.” Rising to his feet, grunting slightly at the discomfort, Jason turned to leave. 

Father Patric stood there waiting for him, a pensive frown across his lined face. “Why did you and your vows part ways? Those that leave the Church, they’ve lost their way and their faith, but not you. You still believe.” 

Just as before, Jason did not want to lie to the man. But this time, the difference between a truth and a lie meant being banished from the one place that has managed to bring any peace to his weary soul. 

“It was not my choice,” he replied, standing tall and proud as his uncle and forefathers would want him to. Invisible over his shoulders, he felt the weight of his cassock and the authority that had once been his to claim. “I was cast out.” 

The frown deepened. “Why?” 

“Because of my name. Because of what Rome says my family did.” 

“You’re a Belmont.” Surprisingly, it didn’t sound like a curse when Father Patric said it. 

Solemnly, Jason nodded his head. “I am. Through my mother.” 

“This is why you would not go to confession earlier when I offered.” 

“What I said before was true. I might not be a priest anymore, but I still have my faith. I still wander the roads of Wallachia fighting to keep our people safe.” Even if they spit and curse when they found out exactly who just hauled their asses out of the fire. “I know no other way.” 

“I traveled with a Belmont for a time,” Father Patric offered quietly. “Before I took my vows. She was young and beautiful, and what a fighter. I’ve never seen her match with a staff. But more than just her ability to fight, she knew herbal remedies and cures that saved those who accepted them.” 

“Careful, Father. You’re bordering on blasphemy,” Jason cracked a slight grin which was returned in full. 

“We parted ways nearly three decades ago. I later learned she had retired from hunting entirely to raise her son. Her name was Catherine.” 

Jason’s head fell back, and he let out a slow breath. What were the chances of meeting this man at this time? One in a million, that was for sure. Reaching under his tunic, he revealed the silver crucifix his mother had given him. It caught the light from the candles and gleamed dully. 

Father Patric took a step closer, raising a hand, then lowering it. “She wore that every day that I knew her. Is she…?” 

“Died before Rome laid down their edict.” 

The priest closed his eyes, but not before Jason caught the glimpse of a tear. Somehow, he knew that if circumstances had been even slightly different, this man could have been his father. His mother rarely spoke about her time away from the family and now he understood why. The man she loved most in the world was not the man who’d fathered her child. Damn, but he wished he had more time to spend here. Perhaps when his task was done, he could spare a few days to learn more about this man and listen to tales of his mother’s adventures. 

“I am sorry for your loss, Jason.” 

On impulse, he reached out and clasped the older man’s arm. “I have had time to mourn her. Do not be afraid to take that time for yourself now that you know.” 

Smiling gently, Father Patric returned the gesture with a strong grip of his own. “I do not care what Rome says. My door is always open to you, Jason Belmont.” 

“Thank you, Father.” Jason fought past the sudden block in his throat and swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

* * *

Outside, full night had fallen and as Jason walked away from the church, Tim appeared out of the shadows to fall into step beside him. 

“I left coin in the priest’s quarters. He doesn’t seem the type to question where it comes from.” 

Jason nodded, not wanting to speak. 

Tim appeared to pick up on his mood and continued. “I will get our supplies ready tonight. Find you a cushion or three. We leave before dawn.” 

“Good. It’s high time we stopped dicking around here.” Knowing how easily his words could be construed, Jason whirled around and pressed Tim against the wall, sealing their lips together in a kiss that he hoped conveyed all his pent-up frustration and desire. They wouldn’t have their night together here to learn and explore each other’s bodies the way they both wanted, not without leaving him too wrecked to be much good on the morrow. 

He needed to be sharp. On point. Ready for anything. 

Even if all he wanted was to fall to his knees and unlace Tim’s breeches to fuck his face on that pale cock, the perfect distraction from all the conflicting emotions tearing through him. 

Tim somehow managed to draw away first. “You need to sleep tonight, Jason.” 

Pressing their brows together, he nodded. “I know. I know. But I fear that sleep will be fucking impossible tonight.” 

“I can help,” Tim replied, tracing the line of his jaw and kissing him lightly. “If you’ll let me.” 

“What? Bite me again while I come my brains out?” 

“Use my gaze. For one such as you with the strength of your faith, it will only work if you allow it to. You’ll sleep when I tell you to and wake only when I wish for it.” 

Jason reared back. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve never whammied me before?” 

“That is exactly what I’m telling you. Alucard was never able to do it to you either.” 

Now that he was aware of the attempts, he remembered a couple of times during his travels with the dhampir where Trevor would suddenly shut up and fall asleep while Alucard would be frowning even more for no apparent reason. Well, now he knew the reason. 

“He’d do it to Trevor to make him go to bed.” 

Tim nodded, huffing a small laugh. “Are you really so surprised?” 

“No, it sure beats me smacking him upside the head.” 

“Do you accept then?” 

“Only if you swear on your damned lute that’s all you’ll do to me, princess.” 

In the faint light, Tim’s eyes glowed in their amusement. “I swear on my lute,” he said. “All you will do is sleep, and peacefully.” 

It was a risk, but the benefits outweighed the negatives. He needed rest and he wasn’t going to get it with the way his brain was running out of control. “Fine.” 

Tim’s eyes blazed and Jason stepped back, disoriented. “Wha—what?” 

“Sleep, Jason Belmont. Sleep, my precious human.” 

Falling forward into the arms of his lover, Jason slept.

* * *

Just before dawn the next morning, a finely appointed covered carriage exited through the town’s eastern gate. Two figures sat in the coachman’s seat, one driving while adjusting the cushion in the small of his back and the other idly plucked at a lute, his movements drawn out and languid as though he were barely awake. 

The road to Brăila stretched out before them.

“Ready, princess?”

“Always.”

“That’s rather funny coming from someone who’s about to pass out for the next several hours.” 

“You’re ruining the moment.”

“What moment? We're driving off into the unknown to fight terrors of the night, after which I'll throw a bunch of salt into a river and pray until I'm hoarse. Of which, thanks for the barrel. Do I even want to know where you got it?"

"No, you don't. And yes, I paid for it."

"You totally should have stolen it."

A long pause. "Probably."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be a vampire's backstory ahead. Any historical inaccuracies are mine. Also, note the updated tags.

The sun rode low in the sky as Jason drew up the carriage alongside a likely campsite. Three days on the road now, but this night would be the last. Tomorrow, they would be in Brăila. 

“A little early for stopping,” Tim commented, glancing over at him. He’d emerged from the carriage once it became clear the switchbacks were a thing of the past, protected by the long shadow of the carriage against the remaining light of day. 

Jason arched his back, feeling and hearing it pop. “Yeah, but my gut tells me I’m going to need all the rest I can get tonight. Besides, there’s a spring, so I can refill the waterskins and take care of the horses.”

He’d probably have to purify it first, but that wasn’t difficult. A small spring versus one of the largest rivers in Europe? He knew which one he’d rather tackle.

“Fair enough.” Tim cast a critical eye over the campsite. 

It wasn’t much. Just off the main road, it boasted a large boulder and a few trees forming a narrow ring just large enough to drive the carriage into. The spring was what caught Jason’s attention more than anything. This close to Brăila, he could feel the decay in the land, but they were still in the foothills, so the small water source was unlikely to be fed by the river below. Even if it did, water flowed downhill, so his little purification might even help him tomorrow, assuming it linked up to another source that fed into the river.

There was a thought. A delay of a day, at most. Or night, because he’d need Tim to help him hunt down all the tributaries on this side of the town. Work smarter, not harder, and all that. At the same time, it would probably only do some good in staving off the rot from the river, which would go away completely when his work was done. 

He hated when he out-logicked himself. 

Stiffly, Jason stepped down from the carriage. The cushions Tim had procured helped some, but he was really looking forward to later when his lover worked his magic along his aching spine. He’d done it every night since they hit the road again, leaving him relaxed enough to sleep peacefully through the night beside the crackling fire. 

It was still too light for Tim to safely join him on the ground, so Jason unharnessed the horses and brushed them. They weren’t the best of beasts when he’d bargained hard for them at the start of their journey. The carriage he might have earned through his services in the bedchamber, but even the Waynes didn’t part easily with horseflesh. Still, the time on the road had done them good, as had the regular care and feed. 

Which made perfect sense when a vampire was using them to supplement his diet every few nights. Especially now, when the very land itself was falling into decay, and the animals along with it. 

Tim had apparently fed rather heavily before they left the last town—and on a human too. They’d argued about that when Jason found out, even if the victim in question was a man who undoubtedly deserved such a fate. He understood the reasoning behind it, that Tim needed to be in top form for whatever Brăila threw at them while Jason was busy with the river, but it still aggravated him. Why was it that human blood packed such a punch compared to animal blood? 

There had to be a reason beyond simple taste. Unfortunately, now wasn’t the time to contemplate it more. 

Jason knelt before the spring, placing a small box of salt on the ground beside him. Removing his silver crucifix from the confines of his shirt, he bowed his head and prayed. 

By the time he was done, the shadows were long enough for Tim to join him safely. He stood in the shadow of the boulder, attention on the woods as Jason led the horses to the now clean water to drink their fill. 

“What is it?” he asked, peering through the trees. 

“Night creatures are starting to stir.” 

“Fuck. I knew our luck had to run out eventually.” They hadn’t had a single encounter with the creatures yet, though that could have had something to do with the wards Tim set around their camp each night. They were designed to deflect attention, warping reality into an illusion that there was nothing to see here. 

“It’s a bit early for them,” Tim commented, unmoving. “I think I can get the wards up before they reach us. As well as one other trick I have up my sleeve, if you can spare some salt.” 

“For a good night’s sleep this close to Brăila, go for it.” 

Wordlessly, Tim stepped into the shadow and disappeared. 

Jason shook his head and picketed the horses on the other side of the spring. Already, the taint was dissipating under the strength of his blessing, revealing sweet, green grass for the horses to graze on in addition to their normal feed. 

Taking care of his own needs outside the ring of the campsite, he returned with some wood and dry moss for his tinder. A fire soon crackled merrily, just large enough to cook his dinner. Tim had told him the first night he could build a bonfire if he wanted, that no one would notice once his warding was in place. 

His retort that bigger wasn’t always better had actually caused the other man to crack a smile. 

Jason was determined to do it again. Tim’s smile was fantastic. 

His less than impressive meal was just starting to bubble when the vampire reappeared, stepping out of the carriage’s shadow. The sun hadn’t quite dipped all the way beneath the hills they’d most of the day crossing, but it was low enough that he didn’t need to be concerned about accidental rays. 

“The wards are set,” he announced, picking up a corner of his cloak to inspect a freshly torn seam. “I killed five night creatures in the process.” 

Jason blinked. What? “I didn’t hear a thing. Neither did the horses.” 

They always grew skittish in the presence of predators, present company excluded. 

“Then the salt line is working perfectly.” Tim grinned, flashing fang as he spun on his heel to open the back of the carriage and peer inside. 

“Care to explain what that even is?”

“It’s a more powerful barrier than the basic wards I’ve been setting. This close to Brăila, I felt that conserving our energies for what lies ahead is a better strategy than chasing night creatures away from our camp.” 

“Which you just said you did anyway.” 

Tim emerged from the carriage with a small sewing kit. “I needed the exercise after being cooped up all day.” 

“You’re such a little shit.”

“What? You wanted to come play too?” The vampire gave him an impish grin. “With your bad back?”

“Fuck you.”

Chuckling, Tim removed his cloak and settled against the boulder, needle and thread in hand. “Only if you ask nicely.” 

“I’m always nice,” Jason muttered, turning back to his cook-pot.

* * *

After dinner and a cursory wash in the cold water of the spring, Jason settled into the nest of bedding Tim had put together for him. The vampire didn’t believe in sleeping on the cold ground if he could avoid it, so each night he dragged out a bundle of furs and blankets from the depths of the carriage. 

Jason was starting to think he didn’t actually store the bedding—and a host of other things—inside the carriage, but in some shadowy pocket dimension from which he produced whatever he wanted when he needed it. The theory would also explain the never-ending coin purse. 

All griping aside, the nights were still chilly, and his lover wasn’t exactly the warmest, so burrowing into the soft furs and finely woven blankets was a luxury he wasn’t about to complain over. Especially after Tim stripped down too and settled over the back of his thighs to poke and prod at his aching muscles. 

“Shit,” Jason breathed as Tim once again worked his magic down his back and along his spine. At each twist, at every downward press, something popped or gave way, somehow managing to be both relaxing and slightly painful in the process. “I think I love your hands.” 

“You keep saying that,” Tim mused, massaging the tight muscle in Jason’s right shoulder now that he was done squishing him. 

“Well I do,” he stated in a mulish tone. “Seriously, where the fuck did you learn this?” 

Tim was silent for a time, his knuckle pressing hard into a stubborn knot, kneading until it gave way. Tension flowed out of Jason like a ripped sack of water, leaving him utterly drained and boneless. Good God, he could get used to this. 

“I learned it in the court of the vampire who sired me,” he eventually replied, moving on across Jason’s shoulders to the other side and poking around. “The old man was a sensualist and enjoyed being touched.” 

Jason swallowed down every instinct he had to deluge Tim with questions about his past. This was the first time he’d ever mentioned anything about his early life as a vampire. 

Above him, Tim poked the back of his head. “Go head and ask,” he said. “I know you want to.” 

“That much is a given, but I do have _some_ manners.” Oh Lord, did he want to know it all. Tim was a closed book most of the time, allowing little peeks here and there that only made the story all the more tantalizing. To be able to even ask one question was a boon. “You’re a private person, I get it.” 

“I’m feeling generous tonight.” 

There was something in Tim’s voice that spoke of a deep and long suppressed pain. While Jason didn’t have anywhere near the number of years under his belt, he had more than a passing familiarity with the type of pain his tone spoke of. Of having his entire life ripped apart and shredded to pieces. 

“How about the beginning then?” Jason asked, somberly. “How did it happen?” 

Tim huffed a small laugh, pressing down upon another knot. “Of course you’d ask that.” 

“Sorry?” 

“No, it’s fine. I just haven’t had to tell this story before.” 

“Not even to Dracula?” Jason found that hard to believe. Alucard had said his father liked to know everything he could about people, that the knowledge gave him an upper hand when dealing with them. 

“He already knew,” Tim replied plainly. “Amongst my kind, we live in the shadows of our sires until we do something interesting, like kill them. Only then do the elders take notice of the young upstarts.” 

“You’re hardly young.” 

The comment earned him a swat on the ass. 

“I could be an elder now, if I wanted to claim that title. But in all my centuries of undeath, I have yet to sire a child.” Tim paused, the pain becoming more evident when he continued. “I have never wanted to introduce this life to another, not with the way it was forced upon me.” 

Jason kept his mouth shut, knowing he didn’t need to say anything more to keep the other man going. 

“I was born in the city of Tolosa, now known as Toulouse, in the year 441 according to how the years are calculated now. It was a tumultuous time—Rome was in steady decline and the Visigoths hungered for new land. My father was a merchant of some renown and my mother, amongst her many talents, was a musician. I was their only child to survive past the age of ten.” 

“You’re Roman, then?” Jason asked, settling into his furred cloak as Tim’s clever fingers fell into tracing patterns against his skin. 

“Gallo-Roman, I suppose. Various treaties turned the southern part of Gaul into a Visigoth kingdom shortly before my birth. Rome was the nominal ruler, but the taxes my family paid were to the Visigoths.” 

The fact that the man sitting on the back of his thighs lived through the end of the Roman Empire had Jason giving a minute shake of disbelief. Incredible. The stories Tim could tell; hell, any vampire really, if they weren’t so homicidal and narcissistic. 

Tim continued with his tale. “I was in my twelfth year when my father had me accompany him to Narbonne for the first time. The city was a central hub for trade in the region, with the Atax River—now the Aude—still within its banks. As my father’s apprentice, I was excited to travel beyond the walls of my city to another, to see and learn new things. It was during this trip that I met the vampire who would later become my sire.” 

There was no mistaking the quiet anger in his voice nor the way his fingers spasmed across Jason’s back. 

“Of course, we didn’t know he was a vampire. To my father, the old man was a trusted business associate, one who abhorred the sun and wore a turban, a fact that made sense in our minds as he hailed from Carthage. From the moment he laid eyes on me, it was clear that he found me a desirable commodity. I had no knowledge of this, showing off, in my childish manner, my skill with the old man’s abacus and my head for figures. But my father noticed the gentle touches, the sweets he gave me, and the desire in his eyes. 

Six years passed before I traveled again to Narbonne, and under a much different set of circumstances. My mother had passed away three years before, her final labor stealing both her life and that of my newborn sister. Father’s business was failing and while I did my best, I was still too young to be taken seriously by the local merchants. In a desperate move, he made a deal that changed my life forever.” 

Jason twisted around, looking over his shoulder at Tim. “He didn’t.” 

Morose blue eyes stared back. “He did. I will give my father some credit that I wasn’t used as a bargaining chip immediately when we entered the old man’s chamber of business. But the very fact that I was with him spoke volumes as to what he was willing to give up in order to save his own skin.”

That motherfucker. There had been many times in his life that Jason wished he could travel through time, even if all he could do was punch someone in the dick before he was yanked back to where he belonged. The urge to do just that to Tim’s long-dead father was so strong he found himself having to unclench his fists.

“I was sold for a rather obscene amount of gold to the old vampire,” Tim continued, drawing Jason out of his head. “I fought hard, loudly protesting that I was a grown man and slave to no one. My father slinked away and I never saw him again. That night, I became a meal for my new master while he raped me.”

Motioning that he wanted to sit up, Jason slid out from beneath Tim and took his hands. “You don’t have to continue,” he said with earnest words. “I don’t want you to relive that pain.” 

Tim pressed a kiss to their joined hands. “I appreciate the thought. But this is a tale I’ve let fester inside for too long. Besides, I understand that confession is good for the soul. And you are a priest, even if Rome is too stupid to accept it.” 

The sentiment warmed Jason’s heart, but he still shook his head. “I will listen. Not as a priest, but as your friend and your lover.” He gathered Tim into his arms and, adjusting his cloak, leaned back against the boulder to face the fire. 

“Thank you,” Tim breathed, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Thank you.” 

When he spoke again, it was of a ship crossing the Mediterranean to Carthage, and from there, a caravan across the desert deep into North Africa. He painted a picture of shifting sands and colors he’d never seen in the natural world, of camels and palanquins traversing the dunes by night. The old vampire had built for himself a fortress supported in part by an oasis where a spring of sweet, cold water never failed to flow. It was a haven for vampires and ruled over by the one Tim now had to call master. 

The old vampire was smart, knowing that too much bloodletting would unduly weaken his new slave, leaving him prone to illness or worse. So he sipped here and there, opening a wrist one night to sup from a vein or sinking his fangs into Tim’s neck while burying himself in his ass. 

But Tim was more than just a pleasure slave. His head for mathematics made him an invaluable asset for the running of the old vampire’s holdings. It took a while to wear him down to agree to work for the old bastard; apparently the old man preferred willing slaves rather than mindless drones and only used his gaze when he had to, so powerful had it become over the years. 

“Personally, I think he just didn’t bother to learn the control over it that allowed humans to keep their minds,” Tim mused. “There’s a certain amount of skill involved, and his ego could fill a grand hall.” 

“Was he compensating for something?” 

Tim shook his head. “I wish.” 

Jason winced in sympathy. 

When he accepted the offer, Tim found that his quality of life improved somewhat. He was able to move about the fortress, gaining access not only to the counting room, but also the library. 

“That room was the only place I found solace,” he said, leaning into Jason’s shoulder. “The texts were mostly Latin and Greek as this was before the languages of the Arabs took root in the area. My Latin was good, and my Greek grew with each visit. When I let it slip during one of the old man’s trade meetings, he saw to it that I received a more formal education in it.” 

“You always call him that,” Jason commented, pressing his lips into Tim’s raven dark hair. “Is there a reason?”

“Only that I’ve sworn an oath to never let his name pass my lips again.” Sighing, he continued, his voice pitched so low that Jason could barely hear him speak. “It was in my twenty-second year that a plague ripped through the fortress and surrounding town. This was how I came to be turned. As much as the old vampire craved the taste of my blood, I had proven useful in many other ways. He drained me utterly while taking his pleasure from my fever-wracked flesh for the last time. Then, he slit his own wrist and held it to my mouth. I had no defenses left and was unable to stop him from forcing me to swallow.” 

Jason was unable to stop the images from springing forth in his mind, of Tim’s last moments as a living and breathing human being. He forced himself to keep his arms relaxed, unwilling to provide even an illusion of restraint as Tim relived his past. 

“I was buried in a shallow grave in the depths of the fortress and born again three nights later.” Tim spoke of the madness that all but consumed him for the first year, of his never-ending hunger and the desire for revenge that replaced the blood flowing in his veins. “Mind you, I was not some ravenous beast, but it was though my thoughts could only flip between those two pages. I later learned this was not uncommon for new vampires, to be torn between the thirst and the last thoughts they had before dying.” 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jason felt he should be taking note of this to add later to the collection of information contained within the Belmont Hold. Or was it already there, lost in some forgotten journal? When had a Belmont ever had a chance to question a vampire like this and receive honest answers? 

Then again, he was probably also the first Belmont in his family’s history to take a vampire as a lover. Not that they’d had any opportunities since leaving town to do anything, but he’d rather hoped tonight would result in an orgasm of some sort. 

Those chances weren’t looking so good now. Tim’s story was ripping at his heart, leaving sadness and pain in its wake. 

“After a year, the thirst and rage tapered down to more manageable levels and I was able to rejoin the old man in his business ventures. I wasn’t allowed out of the fortress, let alone to Carthage or across the sea, but I was able to enter the counting room again. It was also during this time that I came to understand just how much control that old bastard had over me.” 

Tim had hoped the sexual appetites of his master would wane once his blood stopped flowing. But they didn’t, since the newly minted vampire could take much more abuse than a pathetic human. He glossed over the specifics, but as the descendant of a family of vampire hunters, Jason knew, had even seen for himself. His stomach roiled at the tortures and indignities the man in his arms had been forced to endure. 

Time passed and the Vandal rule over Carthage waned as the Byzantines moved in. Rome’s glory days were over, and the western empire was no more. The old vampire was forced to spend more time on his business interests elsewhere. Living as they did, in the lap of absolute luxury, was an expensive venture, especially when one could only travel by night or with very careful considerations during the day. For long stretches of months, Tim would find himself unfettered by his master’s will. 

And oh, did he take advantage of it. Jason couldn’t stop himself from chuckling as Tim revealed his first adventure into the realm of the arcane. 

“It didn’t go well,” he admitted with a wry grin. “I lost an eyebrow and burned the back of my hand in the process. But that didn’t stop me. A few nights later in the bazaar, I met the man who would eventually become my tutor.” 

“Oh?” 

“He called himself Constantine.” 

Jason sat up at that. “I know that name.” 

“I rather thought you might.” 

“He’s a dick.” How the hell did he not know that John Constantine was immortal? “I remember meeting him when I was a kid. He had some business with my uncle, and I was told to be nice to him, otherwise he’d turn me into a slug.” 

“He definitely takes some getting used to,” Tim agreed. “When we first met, he hadn’t quite developed into the charming asshole of today. Back then, he was just an asshole.” 

But he was an asshole who took a shine to a young vampire who wanted nothing more than to be free of his master’s control. To be master of his own actions, his own will, his own desires. It was a monumental task. When the old man was present, Tim couldn’t risk meeting with Constantine and revealing his tutor. This worked out as the magician had a difficult time staying in one place, so he resumed his travels while Tim was at the beck and call of his master. 

“I didn’t spend the off months idly,” he explained. “I knew my way around the old man’s wards and protections. I knew what they could do, and the harm that befell anyone who crossed them. With Constantine’s help, I learned to counter each one. Not with a flash or a bang as conjurors like to believe, but with cunning and subtlety. Everything hinged on the old man not realizing what I was doing. 

“There were times I was afraid Constantine wouldn’t return, that he’d washed his hands of the entire ordeal. But whenever the old man left, there he was, waiting in the desert for me. Somehow, he always knew when I would be able to come.” 

All told, Tim was over a century and a half old by the time his skills with the arcane were ready to be tested against his master. 

A distinct note of satisfaction rang through his voice as he relayed the last part of his tale. “When a vampire feeds, we are at our most vulnerable. The scent and taste of blood, it consumes all our senses, however briefly. It was at that moment that I struck. The leg of a table was my stake and I drove it so far into his chest that the tip broke through and punctured the human we were feeding from. The old man howled in fury, lashing out both physically and mentally. But I stood firm against the onslaught, burying my fingers into his neck and ripping his head off.” 

Tim held up his hands and in the lurid light of the fire, Jason could easily imagine the blood dripping down them, dark and thick and red. 

“When the guards arrived, I stood over the body of our former master, bathed in his blood. The human lay whimpering on the floor, the old man’s shriveled cock still up his ass. I remember picking him up and draining him dry in front of everyone, staking _my_ claim over not only the old bastard’s possessions, but also everyone who resided in the fortress. 

I, the youngest vampire there, had just accomplished what no one else could. The Demon’s Head was dead.” 

Jason placed a kiss along the narrow column of Tim’s neck. “Your old master sure liked his boys, didn’t he?” 

“He did.” Tim leaned back into his chest, allowing Jason to envelope him in his warm arms. “On multiple occasions, I had to listen to him bemoan the fact that I hadn’t come to him sooner.” 

“Fucker.” 

“Over the years, I’ve come to like the Christian concept of Hell. I’ve enjoyed more than a few hours contemplating the agonies that Heaven’s former angels could be inflicting on him even now.” 

That reminded Jason of something. “You weren’t brought up a Christian, were you?” 

Tim shook his head. “No, I wasn’t.” 

“Then how come my crucifix is able to hold you at bay?” The same crucifix that hung heavy down his back so as to not burn the skin of his lover. 

“Because of your faith, Jason.” Tim twisted around, looping his arms around Jason’s neck to draw them close. “The power of faith is a mighty weapon in the hands of one who knows how to wield it. Your faith is no less great than that of a Taoist monk from China or a Buddhist in India. It’s not the cross that holds us back. It’s the belief behind it.” 

Jason wanted to smack his own head, but his hands were full of the vampire sprawled over his lap. “It never even occurred to me that people have been fending off the powers of darkness long before the Church in Rome rose to power. I feel like an idiot.” 

“You’re not an idiot—just short sighted at times. Which is what your Church wants of you. Mindless followers who have forgotten how to question the ways of the world and wonder _why_ things happen.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Stop rubbing it in my face.” 

Tim rose up on his knees, taking hold of Jason’s face carefully between his hands to stare down at him. “One of the main reasons I agreed to your accompanying me on this journey was the fact that you are so open to learning new things. Knowledge, you absorb it, crave it, nearly as much as Lisa did. When Carmilla is dead, I think you and I could spend many a day and night in Vlad’s castle just reading and sharing what we’ve learned.” 

This sentiment echoed Jason’s thoughts about taking Tim to the Belmont Hold to do the same thing. He and Tim were a matched pair, there was no mistake about that. 

Pressing a delicate kiss to the soft skin on the inside of Tim’s wrist, Jason spoke. “I would like that very much, princess.” Dragging his hand up his lover’s back, he tangled his fingers in Tim’s hair. “I’ll settle for this for now.” 

It was hard to say whose lips fell upon the other first, but it didn’t matter. Aggressively, Tim closed any semblance of a gap between them. All Jason could feel was cool skin against his heated flesh. Breaking away from those lips, he traced down the column of Tim’s throat, lapped at his collarbone, then closed his mouth around a pale nipple, flicking the bud with his tongue. 

“ _Yeesss,_ ” Tim hissed, closing a hand around the back of Jason’s head to keep him there. “Do that again.” 

He did, but this time clasping his hands over the firm globes of Tim’s ass, kneading the muscle. 

Above him, the man quaked, tossing his head back in wild abandonment. “ _Jason,_ ” he breathed, tangling his fingers even more into his hair. 

“What do you want, princess?” Jason murmured, switching nipples. Who’d have thought the vampire would be so sensitive there of all places? “Tell me.” 

After the story he’d just heard, any and all decisions about whose cock went where were in Tim’s hands. 

Rising on his knees again, Tim resettled himself so that Jason’s straining cock slid between his cheeks. He moaned, closing his lips over the juncture of Tim’s neck to stave off any more embarrassing noises. Usually he had no issue with being loud or bossy, but tonight, that just didn’t feel right. 

Tim deserved more. Deserved better. 

“Don’t,” Tim said, tugging on his hair to draw him away. “I want to hear every sound you make.” 

“But…” 

“But nothing.” Tim rolled his hips and Jason’s cock caught on the edge of his entrance. “You asked what I wanted,” he purred against his lips. “And I want you.” 

Jason could take a hint. 

Freeing a hand, he attempted to suck on two fingers before Tim took over. 

“Allow me.” 

No complaints here. Mesmerized, he could only watch as his digits were drawn in and out of Tim’s mouth. His tongue lapped against the tips and over the knuckles. Opening his mouth slightly to release the soaking fingers, they shone wetly in the light of the fire. 

Jason dropped his hand as he recaptured Tim’s mouth with his own. One damp finger joined his cock and pressed ever so carefully against the ring of muscle. 

Tim stilled completely, tearing away from Jason’s lips to suddenly peer out into the darkness. On the other side of the spring, the horses snorted, tossing their heads at some unseen disturbance. 

Well, there was another moment ruined. 

Withdrawing his hand, he released his lover completely and waited, boner wilting as he strained to pick up whatever had stolen Tim’s attention. His human senses were nothing compared to those of a vampire. Or of a pair of horses, apparently. 

So when he felt the earth shudder ever so faintly beneath him, he could be excused for gaping. “What the hell?” 

Tim rolled off his lap and reached for his clothing. “I have no idea. Nothing should be able to see or hear us.” 

“I didn’t hear you and those night creatures earlier,” Jason reminded him as he too scrambled for his trousers and boots. 

“This is different. Can’t you _feel_ it?” 

Now that he didn’t have a writhing vampire straddling his thighs, he could. Something was off. It felt… 

He drew his crucifix back around and clasped it tightly, closing his eyes as he silently prayed for guidance. Overwhelming darkness surrounded Jason, reminding him of why humans feared the night and the unseen creatures that roamed in the shadows. He felt as though he were floating, cocooned in icy water that slowly drew him deeper and deeper. 

Opening his eyes, Jason gasped, sucking in air as he broke through the surface of whatever had tried to drag him down. “The river,” he choked between breaths. “Something is in the river.” 

“Stay here,” Tim warned before disappearing into the night. 

Fuck that. 

Jason tugged on his shirt and tunic, then belted everything in place. His crucifix hung in plain view, nestled between the open laces of his shirt. Casting about for something to do besides stand around with a thumb up his ass, his gaze settled on one of the trees circling the camp. 

The first night on the road to Brăila, Tim had said the wards go straight up rather than curving over the top of the camp to form a dome. Jason wasn’t sure why it mattered, so he just smiled and nodded like he understood. But now that little fact was working in his favor, assuming he could haul his ass up and reach the lowest branch. 

It took more than a little maneuvering, as well as some judicious curses, but he soon found himself making his way upward. The camp was on the eastern side of the foothills overlooking the river valley, which gave him reason to believe that if he could just get high enough, he might be able to see what had caused Tim to disappear into the night. 

Each branch he passed only served to remind him that he wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, let alone a boy who could bounce from limb to limb like a fucking squirrel. Christ, but this was hard. 

Near the top, he decided discretion was the better part of valor and planted his feet firmly on the branch. Then, grabbing hold of another near his shoulders, he peered around the narrowing trunk. 

The tree hadn’t fully budded out yet, so there were few leaves to impede his sight, enhanced by the nearly full moon shining overhead. And what a sight it was to behold, straight out of the bowels of Hell and his worst nightmares. 

A behemoth of a demon stood along the shores of a wide river that could only be the Danube. It shone black even in the moonlight, augmenting the nightmarish façade of the creature. With the distance still between them, it was difficult to gauge its height. _Towering_ was a good word, or so Jason decided as he tried to work some moisture back into his suddenly dry throat. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Tim commented from out of nowhere. 

Startled, Jason nearly lost his footing. “Need to put a fucking bell on you,” he muttered as he steadied himself. 

Snickering, Tim alighted on the branch above him, which somehow held his weight despite being no thicker than his wrist. “Did you notice that he’s stuck?” 

“Huh?” Jason looked back out into the night and squinted. The details were faint, but he thought he could make out a town—it had to be Brăila—near the demon’s feet. Oddly enough, the beast wasn’t moving. In fact, if he had to guess he was… 

It leaned over, slamming its fists into the ground. 

One breath, two, and Jason felt the tree shiver as the earth quaked beneath them. 

“He’s roaring too,” Tim added. “I think my wards are the only reason the horses haven’t tried to bolt yet. They can’t hear it.” 

“I’m not sure I want to either.” One of his great uncles claimed to have gone deaf because of a demon’s shout and he really didn’t want that to be the last thing he ever heard either. “How do you know he’s stuck?” 

“Because that’s what he’s yelling about.” Tim sounded oddly smug. “He can’t leave the river and is cursing the Forge Master who did such a half-ass job about summoning him forth.” 

Hector. Who else would it be? 

“But I thought the Forge Master only raised a dead priest?” Jason thought back to his vision and nodded firmly as he replayed the event in his mind. “There was nothing else, at least not in my vision.” 

“Maybe it’s a side effect?” Tim shrugged and glanced down at him, his blue eyes catching the moonlight. “Or some portal that was left partially sealed?” 

“You’re the mage, not me. I’m just an excommunicated priest who still receives visions from God.” 

Tim frowned and nudged Jason’s fingers with the toe of his boot. “I wish you’d stop doing that.” 

“What?” Jason questioned, choosing to look back at the demon instead of Tim’s knowing gaze. “I can’t exactly stop the visions. Even fucking a vampire hasn’t put me out of favor yet.” 

“Is that why you’re sleeping with me?” There was a bitter note in Tim’s voice. 

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes. Drama queen. “I’m sleeping with you because I think I might be falling in love with you.” 

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than Tim was standing before him, balanced somewhat precariously on an even smaller limb using only the trunk to steady himself. Even facing away from the moon, his eyes still glowed in the night. “You don’t mean that.” 

“I meant every word,” Jason breathed. 

When it came, the kiss wasn’t unexpected, but if he’d thought the few they’d shared before were heated, then he had to completely reevaluate his definition of passionate. It wasn’t that Tim was devouring him; it was gentle, but no less intense. This was a kiss shared by lovers, one that bared their heart and soul to each other. 

The tree shook again, and Tim sighed as he withdrew, glaring over his shoulder at the silently screaming demon. “This night would be going much differently if he weren’t having such a conniption.” 

“No shit.” They’d still be down in the camp, basking in the afterglow. 

From the expression on Tim’s face, he was sharing his thoughts. “Rather than picking up where we left off, I think it would be best if you rest tonight and keep your blood where it belongs. Odds are very likely we’ll have to confront that creature tomorrow.” 

Jason sighed, peeved that Tim was absolutely right, no matter what his cock thought about the matter. “Might want to take a little extra from the horses tonight yourself.” 

He wished they’d thought to buy another horse when they had the chance. Neither of them had expected the wildlife to be as tainted as it was. The second night out, Tim had tried feeding from a deer and spat the blood out immediately, claiming he could taste the rot already. 

“I will.” Tim extended a hand. “Now give me your hand. The last thing I need is for you to fall and break your neck getting out of this tree.” 

“How do you propose to——” Jason screamed as the vampire grabbed hold of him and jumped, all but flying as the ground rushed closer and closer. 

Tim landed gracefully while Jason flung himself into the grass and clutched at the earth. He was never going to let go. Holy fuck, what the hell? 

Above him, he could hear the distinct sound of laughter. “Laugh it up, princess,” he growled, rolling over so he could glare. “A stunt like that, you’ll be lucky if you see the inside of my pants any time soon.” 

Leaning over him, Tim grinned, his fangs white and prominent. “You prefer to sleep in the nude. I give it five minutes.” 

Dammit, he hated when Tim was right.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten this fic! One more chapter to go.

Just before dawn, Jason awoke to a nearly impenetrable fog surrounding the camp. If not for Tim’s wards, he suspected he’d be unable to see a damned thing. 

“I don’t think it would be a good idea to break camp anytime soon,” Tim commented from where he knelt at Jason’s side. “There are creatures stirring in the darkness that only full sunlight will drive away.” 

“Way to wake a man up.” Sitting up, he stretched and yawned. “Can you tell what the sky is like above this crap?” 

“Crystal clear,” the vampire replied with a yawn of his own. “We’re in a river valley, so this is probably what passes for normal around here.” 

“Excluding all the things that go bump in the night.” Jason crawled to the end of his bedding for the cup of hot tea that was waiting just out of reach, beside the fire. 

“I can think of something else I’d like to _bump_.” Tim’s statement was punctuated with a light touch tracing over his bare ass and the back of his thigh. 

Jason sat back on his knees and glanced over his shoulder. In the firelight, his companion looked tired, his normally sharp features somehow managing to appear sunken and drawn. This wasn’t entirely unusual with the arrival of a new day, but… “I thought you were supposed to eat last night.” 

“I did.” 

“You just look more tired than usual.” 

Tim scooted over to sit beside him, leaning into his warmth. Jason dutifully wrapped his free arm around his waist. “I fed well before we left the last town, but the closer we’ve come to Brăila, the more I feel like there is some other force draining me of my strength.” 

The instinctive answer that the powers of darkness were enough to drain anyone died on Jason’s tongue. Tim was a creature—a _person_ —who thrived in those very shadows. If anything, his powers should be enhanced here. 

“What about your shadow-walking?” he asked carefully, blowing on the steaming liquid before taking a delicate sip. “Does that take a lot out of you? What kind of distance can you cover?” 

Tim was slow to answer. “It’s not difficult and I can cover great distances at speed, but it is tiring if I spend an extended amount of time in that realm.” 

“We’re only three days out from the last town,” Jason prodded, thinking quickly. “How long would it take for you to go back there this evening, drink your fill, and come back here?” 

“A couple of hours,” Tim replied. “Three at most.” 

Jason made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “Then why haven’t you done that?” 

“Who says I haven’t?” 

“What?” 

Tim sighed and rested his head against Jason’s shoulder. “I did last night. With the salt barrier, in addition to my other wards, I felt the reward outweighed the risk of leaving you alone.” 

Jason wasn’t sure how he felt about being left out here with no one on watch, but rather than voicing his opinion—because honestly, Tim would have left something to wake him up had one of the wards been triggered—he asked a different, more pointed question. 

“Then why do you look like something the cat dragged in?” 

“You try running at top speed on a full stomach and see what you look like after.” Tim’s blue eyes peered up at him impishly. 

“No thanks.” Jason leaned over and kissed the tip of his upturned nose. “Now that I’m awake, why don’t you go pass out? Hopefully, we’ll be on the road when you wake up.” 

“An excellent plan. Although,” Tim trailed off as his hand dipped low between Jason’s legs to lightly stroke his cock. It twitched under his touch as it came to life. “I would very much prefer to get some pleasure out of this some morning soon. Going to sleep with your taste on my tongue and your blood in my veins sounds like something I would enjoy very much.” 

Jason groaned as the vampire’s grip tightened incrementally. “Keep that up and you’ll get one out of two.” 

Chuckling low, Tim stroked one more time before letting him go. “Alas, the sun will be up in minutes, so we are out of time. But soon.” 

“Very soon.”

* * *

It was mid-morning before the thick fog burned off enough for Jason to hitch the horses to the carriage and get back on the road. He hadn’t seen any signs of the creatures Tim had warned him about, but he could feel them when they passed close. The horses could too, so he used them as an indicator, along with the brightening sky. 

The road twisted and turned through the trees, concealing the valley below. When it suddenly opened up, he pulled the horses to a halt to stare out. 

Under the light of day, Brăila looked like any other town at first. But Jason’s eyes quickly picked out the lack of chimney smoke and traffic on the road. Steeply pitched roofs had collapsed in on themselves and large portions of the town’s wall had buckled from the onslaught of a vampire army and a trapped demon pitching a hissy fit. However, the river captured his attention most. 

It was black as pitch, as though some thick tar sat on the surface. Perhaps it was a trick of his imagination, but Jason could almost see it repelling light from the sun overhead. 

Fuck. 

“I don’t think I have enough salt for this,” he muttered as he clucked the horses back into their sedate pace.

* * *

A couple of hours later, he parked the carriage in a copse of dead trees miraculously still standing to offer shelter. The ruined forest scattered dismembered trees over the countryside and across the road, making it impossible to drive any further. Based on the jaggedness of the tree trunks, these were not hewn by the hands of man. 

“Are we there yet?” Tim’s sleepy voice asked from the dark interior of the carriage. 

“Sorta,” Jason replied, stretching carefully so that his back wouldn’t seize up. “I’d say we’re about half a league out? The road is pretty much impassible beyond this point.” 

It was a long way to haul a barrel of salt, that much he was certain of. 

“Any company?” 

“Not since the sun scared everything away.”

Jason drank from the waterskin, then climbed down from the carriage seat. A brief exploration of the area revealed no fresh tracks of either the human or non-human kind. The trees strewn over the road concealed signs left by the passage of wagons. These had to be from the last wagon-train to leave. Come to think of it, those people hadn’t spoken about a demon in the river, just the horrors inflicted upon them by Carmilla’s vampire army. 

With that thought in mind, he made his way back to the carriage. “Hey, Tim!” Jason called out. “The refugees from Brăila I spoke to the other night, none of them mentioned the demon.”

There was a long pause before Tim spoke. “Jason, would you come inside please?”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t been entirely honest with you about what happened last night.”

The fuck? Jason stiffened and glared at the carriage. Had Tim’s entire story been a lie? No, it couldn’t be. Could it? “What part of last night?”

“Starting when we spoke in the tree about the demon.”

Great. Just fucking fantastic. “I think I’ll stay out here, thanks.”

“Please, Jason.” Tim’s voice took on a pleading tone. “I am sorry I lied, but I needed some time to collect my thoughts and determine how to proceed.”

Well, at least there was an apology involved. “For the record, I don’t like being lied to.”

“I know, neither do I. But I hope when you hear what I have to say, you’ll understand why I did. Now, will you come inside? I don’t want to speak through a wall about this.”

“Fine.”

After tending to the horses to make sure they didn’t try eating something they shouldn’t, Jason made his way to the carriage door. “I’m coming in,” he announced.

“I made you a cup of tea,” Tim said after the door closed behind him.

The interior of the carriage was softly lit, and far larger than it had any right to be. Tim had done something to the interior with his magic to make it more spacious and comfortable. There was a pocket dimension involved, which was technically where the vampire slept during the day, but the mechanics of it all were above Jason’s level of understanding. 

Magic was not for him.

“Thanks,” he replied, settling onto a comfortable pile of cushions before accepting the peace offering.

The bastard wasn’t even wearing clothes, a fact Jason was certain was on purpose. 

Tim stretched on his pile of furs and offered a small smile. “I picked that up last night. The smell is pleasing, so I hope the taste is too.”

Jason narrowed his eyes and took a small sip from the tea. It was delicious, tasting of spice and cinnamon, but fuck if he’d admit it right now. “Where did you actually go?”

“Allow me to start from the beginning,” Tim said, holding up a hand. “There is no demon haunting Brăila right now, aside from the night creatures that are drawn to the poisoned river.”

“Then that sure as shit was a pretty convincing illusion—”

“It wasn’t an illusion. It was a message. For me.”

Jason blinked. “Okay, I’m just gonna shut up now. Start talkin’.”

“One of my sisters has been attempting to locate me for several weeks now,” Tim explained. “She knew that I was with Dracula, and traced the location of the castle through arcane means. After speaking with Alucard, Talia learned my destination and came ahead to leave a message for me. My proximity triggered it last night.”

A low whistle escaped Jason’s lips. “That was some message.”

“Agreed. But it did its job.” Tim lowered his eyes. “The demon, through much cursing and screaming, told me I needed to return to Carthage as soon as possible, that there was an emergency and my presence was required.”

Jason sat up straighter. “Wait just a fucking moment. Are you telling me you went to _North Africa_ last night?”

“I am.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jason’s head fell back as he shook it, staring incredulously at the ceiling. “If you can do that in a goddamned night, why the hell are you taking the slow route on the road with me?”

“Like I’ve said before, my priest.” Tim’s lips quirked up into a crooked smirk. “You intrigue me. There is a certain amount of joy in traveling on a journey of discovery. Last night, though, there was none to be found.”

“Shadow-walking?” 

Tim nodded. “More like running. When one knows the paths and is unimpeded, it does not take long.”

“This was the stronghold you told me about?” Jason asked, taking another sip of his tea. “South of Carthage?” 

“Yes. While by rights I am the leader of what you could call my clan, I have stepped aside from those responsibilities in favor of someone who actually wants to rule. Talia is my sister, having had the same vampire sire as I. She is a few centuries older than me and takes her responsibilities seriously. For her to track me down as she did, something had to concern her greatly.”

“Which was?”

“Do you remember that there were two ForgeMasters in Dracula’s castle?”

“Yeah. Hector is with Carmilla while the other one disappeared somewhere.”

“Isaac,” Tim stated. “His name is Isaac. Of the two men, he was the most vehemently loyal to Dracula. I had no idea where he’d been sent to and, to be quite honest, I put him out of my mind in favor of focusing on Carmilla. Which might have been a mistake.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“The reason Talia summoned me is because our stronghold was in danger of being overrun by a horde of night creatures under the command of Isaac. Since Dracula’s death, he’s been building an army. Each night, he’s come closer and closer to my home.”

“Shit.”

“Yes.” Tim shifted around, no longer quite so relaxed. “The citadel is a haven for those of the supernaturally inclined, so an assault on its walls is not to be taken lightly. I found Isaac a few hours before sunrise in the desert and we spoke at length.”

Somehow, Jason knew the vampire was still debating on exactly how much he wanted to share with him. “And?” he prodded. “I assume this has something to do with Carmilla, otherwise, he’d have fought you instead.”

“Very true.” Tim leaned over and picked up a cup of tea he’d apparently made for himself too. “Isaac had no idea whose home he was about to assail. His goal right now is to go after Hector. He’s even more determined to kill him than I am.”

“To be fair, you want to rip Carmilla’s head off,” Jason offered. “Hector is a bonus.”

“Which is what I explained to him.” The vampire sipped from the delicate porcelain. “For the moment, we have a truce.”

Jason could see where this was going. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“Of sorts. When we are done here, I will need to return home and make sure Isaac does as he promised.”

“Which is?”

Tim’s gaze grew fierce. “Get his night horde away from the citadel and my people, and fuck off to Styria to pick a fight with Carmilla. While I am loath to involve another person in my battle with her, I have to admit, Isaac is a good one to include. He’ll be able to counter whatever army Hector will build.”

“Which leaves you free to take on Carmilla,” Jason finished with a wry shake of his head. 

“Precisely.” Tim bared his fangs a little too eagerly. “Now that I know what’s happened here, I can make my own preparations.”

Another fight. Another battle. Jason had barely made it through the last one intact. If one considered the condition of his back, then he hadn’t. How much more could he take?

He scoffed to himself. What else was there for someone like him? An excommunicated priest with no home, no parish. A shepherd without a flock to tend to. All he had were his wits and his faith, which were of no small consequence. 

“Well, sounds like you get to rest up this afternoon then.” Jason finished his tea with two quick gulps, barely tasting it, and set the cup aside. “I’ve got a river to fuck around with.”

“Jason,” Tim’s hand darted out to grab hold of his wrist. “Don’t go yet. There’s plenty of time—”

“No, actually. There isn’t.” He bit out, standing to his full height because apparently in a pocket dimension, ceilings didn’t exist. “I’d much rather do this during the day if I can. Where’s my salt?”

Tim’s expression closed off at his words, but his grip didn’t waver. “I want you to come with me, Jason. Stay with me, until your God calls you to your final rest.”

“You don’t mean that.” He couldn’t. It was impossible. A passing fancy for one who was effectively immortal until something came around that could kill him.

“I mean every word.” Tim’s cold lips brushed the back of Jason’s hand. “I do not expect an answer now. We still have work to do here.”

“You mean _I_ have work—” Jason tried, but Tim cut him off.

“ _We_ have work to do,” he repeated. “Make your way to the river and assess. I will meet you there with your salt.”

Jason stared down the kneeling vampire gazing up at him. “We’re gonna talk more about this,” he stated flatly. “Don’t think for a second we’re not. But when we do, you’d better be wearing a pair of pants.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, dammit. You do.”

* * *

There was no concealment on the road into Brăila, which left Jason exposed as he travelled. That was fine with him. It suited his mood and the warring emotions batting beneath the surface. Out here under the early afternoon sun, it was just him, so there was nowhere to hide.

What the hell was Tim playing at? A vampire and a Belmont, together like that? Jason shook his head. It was impossible. 

_But you love him_ whispered a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Sypha. _All things are possible with love._

Dracula had found love with a human, after all. Why couldn’t he?

The answer to that was easy. 

He was afraid. Afraid to open himself up to the possibility that another person could care for him because each time he did, death followed in his wake.

This was why Jason stuck to sordid little affairs. A night here and there. Maybe a week if he were feeling generous. Nothing that lasted. Indulging in the weakness of the flesh was his way of giving Rome the finger, acting out in petty retaliation for what they’d done.

Really, he should have done the opposite. 

But what was the point? The rules and conventions he’d spent most of his young life mindlessly obeying meant nothing in the greater scheme of things. He’d sinned with his eyes wide open, and what had it gotten him? 

Precisely dick.

His visions still came no matter what he did. 

Rome might have excommunicated the Belmonts as heretics, but God still spoke to him. Jason Belmont, not the Pope who’d in all likelihood bought his way to the papacy.

Did it matter whom he loved? 

Not in the slightest. 

Did it matter that a vampire had all but admitted to loving him in return?

Yes, because Tim was fucking terrifying. He was everything Jason wanted and more in a partner. But what scared him the most was that if Tim ever offered him his blood, he wasn’t sure he could deny him.

The ultimate temptation. 

The ultimate sin. 

But now wasn’t the time to wonder when his life had become a morality play. 

The outer walls of Brăila were a pile of uneven rubble. Between the vampires capturing the town and the demon pitching a hissy fit at playing messenger, it was a wonder that any structure was left standing. But a few stalwart buildings still remained, somehow enduring onslaught after onslaught. 

It was a haphazard mess and he was glad that Tim wasn’t here to see him trip his way through it. Jason still had some dignity he wanted to maintain. Not much, but some. 

As he stumbled over the highest rock, he paused, looking down at the horror that lay before him. It was the pen where the townspeople had been kept. Bodies in various states of decay were piled near the center. All those poor souls lost because of one vampire’s ambitions. 

Standing here, he finally understood the depth of Tim’s hatred for Carmilla. It went far beyond anything she had done, but more about how she perceived her place—the vampire’s place—in the world. Humans were cattle and nothing more.

The bitch had to die. 

But before that could happen, there were things he had to do. 

With a quiet sigh, Jason reached into the satchel he’d brought along with him and removed an item of clothing he never thought he would wear again, but couldn’t bear to part with. The cassock and the accompanying collar were not for one such as he, but God was still with him, so fuck Rome. 

He didn’t need them to guide his faith. He _was_ an ordained priest, and no one could take that away from him. 

Clothing change complete, he adjusted the collar where it pressed against his throat. It was a familiar, yet foreign, feeling that had been gone from his life for too long. His silver crucifix shone brilliantly in the sunlight as if it too were happy to no longer be concealed. 

This was who he was. 

Jason stepped forward and approached the bodies. Call it a trick of the light or the foul rot of the darkness swallowing this land, but it was almost as if each soul watched him, wary and waiting to see what perversion he would perpetrate upon them. 

From his belt pouch, he withdrew a stoppered bottle of holy water he’d collected from the spring earlier this morning. There wasn’t much he could do to help these poor souls, but he would sooner see himself in Hell than not attempt to comfort them in some small way. 

Carefully, he removed the cork and sprinkled some of the water on the bodies with a flick of his wrist. 

Then, he began to pray. 

_“Loving God our Father, Your power brings us to life, Your care guides our lives, and by Your command we return to the dust from which we came.”_

* * *

Jason repeated the prayer for the dead every few feet until he made a full circle around the pile of bodies. Already, he could feel the souls settling, soothed by his words that someone here cared for them and would see them given peace. 

By the time he was done, the sun was lower in the sky and the shadows were growing longer. 

He did not regret it. 

Leaving the pen, he stumbled his way over a fallen wall and onto what appeared to be a broad boulevard that once teemed with life and vitality in this dead river-town. Straight ahead was the Danube. 

The way was relatively clear, and Jason approached with a growing sense of trepidation. Purifying springs and saying prayers for the dead were one thing, but this? 

He’d never purified an entire river before. 

The road ended abruptly where a stone bridge had collapsed into the foul water below. A great stench, not unlike a bog, rose up from the black sludge coating the surface. Looking around, he saw that it extended in both directions. 

“Well, fuck,” Jason muttered before making his way down to the shore. 

Up close, he saw that his earlier thoughts about tar weren’t entirely unfounded. Crouching, he carefully pressed a finger against the surface, then drew it back, rubbing the substance between his index finger and thumb. 

Felt like tar too. 

“Perhaps we can burn it off,” Tim commented from somewhere behind him. 

Jason startled, then glared over his shoulder at the vampire standing stiffly in the narrow shadow cast by a fallen stone from the destroyed bridge. “I don’t need the salt yet.” 

“Obviously.” Tim’s eyes glow from the depths of his heavy cloak, a brilliant blue that matched the clear sky above. “You changed clothes.”

“Of all the things you could be commenting on, it’s that?” Jason shook his head with a rueful smile. Banter was easier than exploring the deeper thoughts on vampire/human relationships. Or was that Belmont/vampire relations? 

“It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you in the robes of your calling.” White fangs gleamed as Tim grinned. “It’s very alluring.”

“Perv.”

“It’s not every day I get the opportunity to defile a priest.” 

“Let’s talk about that when it finally happens, okay?”

“Fair enough.” Tim nodded toward the river, drawing Jason’s attention back to it. “Am I right in assuming it looks like tar?” 

“Yeah. Feels like it too, even if the smell is off.” 

“Stand back.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Jason beat a hasty retreat as the vampire raised a hand with a small fireball bobbing over his palm. 

“Do you have a better one?” 

“No.” 

“Then I suggest ducking.” 

As soon as he was a safe distance away, he heard a _whoosh_ and an explosion of heat and fire blazed across the surface of the river. The stone behind Jason’s back grew warm and he covered his ears when there was a second blast that shook the ground. Great. Just great. 

Daring to open his eyes, Jason found Tim crouched in a shadow across from him. “Two fireballs? Really?” 

“I only threw the one. Get up and go look.” 

Jason rolled his eyes and stood. “Bossy.”

“Daylight.”

He couldn’t argue with the reminder. 

Back at the river’s edge, Jason had to admit, the fireball had done a damn good job of clearing the crap off the surface. The fire burned quick and hot, leaving dark water behind. To his right, he could still make out flames as the fire raced downriver. But to his left… 

A font of blue flame rose up from near the opposite shoreline. 

This had to be the source of the second explosion. 

“What the hell is that?” he murmured. 

“Swamp gas?” came Tim’s response from over his shoulder. “But it’s an odd place for it—that’s not a bog.” 

The flames were oddly mesmerizing. In fact, if he had to guess they were the same shade as… “That’s the same blue that surrounded the dead priest in my vision,” Jason stated. 

“The hotter the flame, the bluer it grows.” 

“I know that, but listen. In my vision, the ForgeMaster’s power was exactly that color. He and Carmilla were facing the town and the dead priest was about knee deep in the river.” Jason paused as the pieces fell into place. “Tim, they weren’t in Brăila. They were across the river. Right there.” 

He pointed to the opposite shore. 

“Fuck.” 

* * *

Getting across the tainted river involved a raft, some magicked rope, and a lot of cursing on Jason’s part. Tim, the fucker, simply stepped into a shadow on one side and appeared on the other to pick up the rope he’d sent flying merrily across the expanse. 

Once Jason was on the correct shore, something became very clear, very quickly. 

“This is the source of the taint.” 

From the base of the flame swirled a black, tar-like substance that caught the sluggish current and drifted downstream. A dozen or so paces upstream from the fire, the water was clear, crisp, and cold. 

Thanks to the position of the sun, Tim wasn’t able to approach the shore quite as closely, having to keep to the dubious protection of a fallen boulder and his heavy cape. “Are you certain?” 

Jason closed his eyes and recalled the vision. The bridge was gone now, but the pylons were still there. And the town was just a pile of rubble compared to the proud buildings in his memory. But he took a few paces back and pointed, opening his eyes again to retake his bearings before speaking. “The Forge Master stood here, and Carmilla was right over there. Right where that flame is, that’s where the dead priest was forced to perform his blessing.” 

“More like curse.” Tim took a step out from the shadow and hissed before retreating. “Dammit, I need to get closer.” 

“Got two hours at least before that’ll happen, princess.” Jason approached the edge of the river again and crouched, hoping that something, anything, would catch his eye and give him some fucking clue for what he should do next. 

He’d come prepared to make holy water and cleanse the river that way, not put out a fire. Maybe throwing salt on it would work? 

“If you want to make yourself useful, I could use my salt barrel right about now.” 

Tim’s muttering was the only acknowledgement he gave before he disappeared back into the shadows. 

Whatever. He was the one who bought all the extra salt. Not that Jason’s complaining, but a cask was much easier to carry than a barrel. 

The odds of finding anything worthwhile were slim. It had been weeks since Carmilla and Hector stood here. Time, weather, and the river itself had washed away the signs. Not to mention the bridge collapse, as well as the hissy fits thrown by the nightmare demon—those both would cause waves, which judging by the debris on the banks had been quite high. 

On a hunch, Jason retreated further onto the shore to sift through the flotsam and jetsam. 

A long piece of fabric caught his eye and when he tugged on it, human bones came along with it. 

“What have we here?” he murmured. 

It took some effort, but it wasn’t long before he untangled a bloodstained and ripped set of priest robes. Jason rocked back on his heels and let out a low whistle. 

This wasn’t just any priest. This was a bishop. No wonder blessing an entire stretch of the river worked. 

“I don’t know who you are, but your body sure managed to fuck this place over.” 

Armed with the new knowledge, Jason returned to the shore and contemplated the pillar of blue fire that didn’t seem like it wanted to go out any time soon. Right there, the dead bishop had stood right there to cast his blessing. Contemplating the flames, he realized something. 

While the tarry taint swirled out from the base of the flames, the fiery font itself emanated holy purity. 

How was that even possible? The dichotomy made no sense. 

Jason chewed his lip, thinking it through. There were forces in Heaven and Hell he couldn’t even begin to comprehend, but something about the entire situation didn’t quite feel right. Forge Masters created night creatures using dark magic to imbue a corpse with a false soul—or even the souls of the damned, he wasn’t entirely sure on that point—so how was it possible for a priest’s body to be used for such a purpose? 

It hit him like a load of bricks. 

The priest hadn’t gone to Heaven, but to Hell. It was the only explanation that remotely made sense. This was why the river was cursed. 

“You and I need to have another long talk,” Jason murmured to himself. “I know You don’t like to interfere in our lives, but how could You have allowed a false blessing like this to even work?” 

Someone cleared his throat and Jason turned to find Tim and the salt barrel standing in the shadows. 

“Talking to yourself again?” the vampire asked. 

“I had an epiphany.” 

“Oh?” 

Jason explained his theory, gesturing to the robes and the body he’d laid out. “I could be wrong,” he conceded. “But I can’t think of anything else that explains it. I’m open to suggestions, especially since magic is your forte.” 

Tim’s eyes narrowed as he thought it over. “You’re not entirely off the mark here. Would you bring those robes and the bones to me? There’s a spell I can cast that might give us some answers while you play with your salt.” 

“I’m not playing with my salt. I’m using it for a higher purpose.” 

“You’re going to throw it into the fire to see what happens—which is nothing, by the way.” 

The shit Jason put up with, seriously. “I should throw you into the fire instead.” 

“If you manage it, I’m dragging you along with me.”

* * *

While Tim worked his magic from the shadows, Jason spent his time cleansing salt and throwing it into the blue flames. About the only thing that happened was that the fire would briefly turn yellow as the salt burned off before returning to blue. 

Clearly, he needed another approach. Fuck Tim for being right. 

Sitting on the shore, Jason glared at the fiery font. 

Fact one. The river water stayed purified when he drew it into his empty vial and performed his blessing. 

Fact two. It did precisely dick when tossed into the fire, which made sense since these were holy flames, despite being ignited by a vampire’s spell. There had to be something going on here neither of them had seen before Tim went and threw his fireball. 

Fact three. When he stood in the water and prayed, sprinkling salt as he went, the water remained purified for a time until the tar rising up from beneath the fire canceled out his work. 

Fact four. There was a portal to Hell directly under those flames. 

Fact five. He really didn’t like his next idea and suspected Tim wouldn’t either. 

Luckily, he was saved from having to contemplate this any further when Tim called out to him. 

“I have something. And you’re not going to like it.” 

“There’s a lot of things in this world I don’t like.” Jason stretched as he stood, wincing as his back popped. “But I can’t change most of them, so I try to get over it and move on.” 

He made his way over to the vampire and dead priest. The shadows were growing longer, which gave Tim more room to work. It wouldn’t be long before the sun sank behind the hills they’d spent the better part of yesterday crossing. 

The ground beneath the body was mostly damp sand, so the circle and unknown sigils Tim had drawn around it stood out sharply. An attempt had been made to lay out the bones in some semblance of a human form, but Jason was pretty sure the skull was supposed to be at the top rather than sitting in the pelvis. 

“Is there a reason why his head’s down there?” he asked, because curiosity was the bane of his existence. 

“Because he’s an asshole and his head deserves to be close to it.” 

Jason nodded like that made sense. “You talked to him then?” 

“I did.” Tim knelt beside his circle, fiddling with the stick he’d probably used to draw it. “We are looking at the remains of the Bishop of Gresit.” 

“Holy shit. I remember that prick.” He and Trevor had enjoyed a rather unpleasant visit with him before Jason told him to go fuck himself on his self-righteous walking stick. How the hell had he ended up here? 

“As do I,” Tim added. “He was in attendance when the Archbishop of Târgoviște burned Lisa Ţepeş at the stake as a witch.” 

Jason’s jaw dropped. “You were there?” 

“No, but I was channeling the spell Vlad used to give his warning to the Archbishop and all of Wallachia. I saw him.” Tim’s voice, already aloof, grew hard. “I remember all the faces of the men standing in judgement of her.” 

“Why do I have a feeling that if you ever come across them, you’ll rip their heads off without a second thought?” 

“Because you’re absolutely right.” Tim poked at the remains with the stick. “Anyhow, this piece of human trash has no memory of how he came to be here as he most definitely was killed in Gresit. By a night creature, I might add.” 

Jason approved. There had been so many useless deaths in the battle for Gresit, but at least this one was deserved. 

“He did have some memory though of the blessing he performed for Hector. In his mind, it was almost like a dream, one where he was readying a font for baptism over and over again.” 

“That makes a perverse sort of sense.” Jason looked back over at the flames, then at Tim. “The fire, it’s pure. I can’t cleanse it because there’s nothing _to_ cleanse. But the base of it, beneath the water, that’s where it’s unholy. I think we’ve got a little battle between Heaven and Hell occurring right there.” 

Tim frowned. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve spent the last hour making sure.” 

The frown grew into a scowl. “Give me a moment.” The vampire turned toward the river as best he could within the protection of his shadow. “There is something there,” he announced after a few minutes. “But the flames are concealing it from me.” 

“Flames that weren’t there until you cast your fireball earlier. Maybe it’s a sign.” 

“Signs are for idiots.” 

“You got any better ideas?” 

Begrudgingly, “No.” 

Jason decided now was as good a time as any to announce his plan. “Speaking of ideas, I think I know how to take care of this. And it doesn’t involve salt.” 

“Oh?” 

“You’re not going to like it.” 

“Try me.” 

“I use myself by stepping into the flames and pray for all I’m worth. They’re holy, so they won’t hurt me.” 

Tim grabbed hold of his robes and yanked him into the shadow, face drawn tight with anger. “You’re right. I don’t like that idea. In fact, I despise it. Try again.”

“Do you have a better one?” Jason prodded, keeping calm despite having a snarling vampire in his face.

Tim’s face twisted as the anger left him, falling quickly into downcast frustration. “I don’t,” he admitted. “I just… What if you _are_ burned?”

Jason took hold of Tim’s hand, marveling yet again at just how delicate the cold flesh appeared on the surface. “That is a risk I am willing to take. I have my faith.”

“Yes, you do,” Tim said after a long moment. “I do not believe as you do, but I will not deny the power behind your faith. I believe in what I see before my eyes.”

“And yet, you’re the one with mystical powers who rose from the dead.”

A faint smile appeared on Tim’s lips, there and gone so fast Jason might have missed it if he hadn’t been looking right at him. “I’m still firmly convinced vampirism is a blood disorder that only a certain number of people are susceptible to, but that is a conversation for another day.” His gaze flickered over Jason’s shoulder toward the sun. “It is growing late. If you’re going to walk in flames, I’d prefer you start before full dark.”

“As would I.” But before Jason stepped out of the shadows, he leaned down and kissed Tim, trying and probably failing to convey how much he’d come to care for the man in the short time they’d spent together. The earlier lies and omissions, they didn’t matter now in the face of what would likely be his own demise. 

Tim clasped him firmly around the neck, holding on as he too returned the gesture with all the passion Jason knew lay hidden beneath his calm veneer. It was a façade he was proud to have cracked.

They parted, with Jason drawing in air while Tim simply gave him a sad little smile. 

“Go,” he said. “If you delay any longer, I’ll be able to leave these shadows and follow you.”

Jason pressed their brows together, then drew away with one last kiss to the pale skin of Tim’s forehead. “If I survive this, I expect the best fuck of my life as a reward.”

Tim’s lips stretched into a wide grin. “That won’t be a problem. You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

“That’d better not be because you drained me dry.”

“You’ll be drained of something else. Now go, or I’ll have my way with you right here and hang the consequences.”

Jason took one last lingering look at Tim and turned away. There was work to be done. 

* * *

Because he wasn’t an idiot, Jason took a couple precautions before stepping into the flames. What he was about to do called for an act of faith. A troubled mind (and the taste of Tim still on his lips) was no way to soldier on. 

So he knelt along the shore before the font of flames and drew out his rosary. Reciting the prayers and contemplating the mysteries was a source of comfort, not to mention calming. 

When he was done, he rocked back on his heels and contemplated the flames. He was not afraid of death, nor of what came after, but that didn’t mean he actively went out seeking it. A number of prayers came to mind and after quiet thought, only one spilled from his lips.

_“_ _Lord,_

_I offer to you all my sins and offences,_

_which I have committed before you,_

_from that day I first could sin, even to this hour;_

_that you may consume and burn them,_

_one and all,_

_with the fire of your love,_

_and do away all the stains of my sins,_

_and cleanse my conscience from all offences,_

_and restore to me your grace,_

_fully forgiving me all,_

_and admitting me mercifully to the kiss of peace.”_

Rising to his feet, Jason wrapped his rosary around his wrist and placed a hand over his silver crucifix, gripping it tightly. The weight of both were comfortably solid. 

Before him, there was the river and the fire. He took a step forward, booted feet and the hem of his robes hitting the water. There was no cold. Simply fire and water. 

Another prayer came to mind, perfect in its simplicity. 

_“O Lord my God,_

_do not be far from me._

_My God, have regard to help me._

_I have many thoughts and great fears afflicting my soul._

_How will I pass through unhurt?_

_How will I break them to pieces?_

_This is my hope, my one only consolation,_

_to flee to you in every tribulation,_

_to trust in you,_

_to call on you from my inmost heart,_

_and to wait patiently for your consolation.”_

He took a deep breath. Even in the face of his demise, he wasn’t alone. His task was God’s will. With that thought in mind, Jason strode into the flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found an interesting site that had a number of 15th century Catholic prayers that I thought might be of the sort that Jason would use in this world. If anyone is interested, let me know and I'll add a link.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important note at the end.

Darkness and light. Light and darkness. He was tossed between them like a branch upon the waves, pulled this way and that with nary a space to breathe. But he tried, each time with a prayer upon his lips and his crucifix clutched between his hands.

And then they vanished, leaving him behind to float gently in the void. It was quiet. Peaceful even. For the first time in God knew how long, Jason was able to rest. He wanted to sleep. The battle had taken its toll on him and he was ready for oblivion.

Tim would understand. He’d known the risk, just as Jason had.

It was time.

Jason relaxed into the nothingness and let go. Tim’s voice floated across the void, so close and yet so far away. He wanted to answer him, he really did, but exhaustion was winning out over any words he could possibly utter. 

The sweet warmth of death was cradling him in its embrace when _cold_ struck with the force of a lightning bolt and he cried out as it burned every fiber of his being. Pain, cold, pain, cold, it was all too much and then… 

Then there was nothing.

* * *

Jason awoke slowly. 

He was cold. So cold. As his eyes fluttered open, he tried curling into himself. His back spasmed and he cried out weakly. 

“Hush, little priest,” came the low tone of a woman. “It is still time for sleep and healing.”

“C-cold.” Jason stumbled over the word with chattering teeth. Where was he? Who was this woman? The unknown made him nervous with his current state. 

Another blanket was placed over him, one that had been heated through if the warmth suffusing it was any indication. 

A hand as cold as ice rested briefly on his shoulder. “Will he be alright?” spoke another voice. Tim. It belonged to Tim.

Jason relaxed as nervous tension disappeared. If Tim was here, he’d be okay. 

“If your tales about his strength of will are to be believed, Brother, then he will be. Now get some rest of your own. Your journey is a perilous one.”

Brother? What…?

“I want to stay.” Tim sounded like he was in pain. How? Was he hurt? 

“You chose to get involved with those on the other side of the sea,” replied the unknown woman, with more than a hint of reprimand. “Now you must live with that choice.”

This was all far too deep for Jason’s pain addled brain. He stirred again and that cold hand returned, pressing firmly. “Sleep, Jason,” came Tim’s voice. “Nothing and no one will harm you here. I swear it.” 

“Tim?”

“I am here, my priest. Now rest and be at peace.”

The world faded away as darkness and warmth lulled him back to sleep.

* * *

The next time he awoke, it was to pain. His entire body alternatively felt as though it were on fire one moment and icy cold the next. The only constant was the pain gripping him firmly. Gasping, he tried to open his eyes and found he couldn’t. 

He attempted to raise a hand to his face and discovered he couldn’t do that either. His arms were bound across his chest. 

Panic started to rise in his chest when a gentle hand pressed against his shoulder.

“Do not struggle, priest,” an accented voice spoke in quiet words. “You are gravely wounded from your battle. My brother brought you here to receive care and to recover.”

“Brother?” Jason rasped through parched lips. A memory pierced the hazy fog. Hadn’t he asked that before? 

“Timothy,” the woman replied. “He said that he’s spoken of me. I am Talia, Mistress of the Mafqud. Here in this oasis long forgotten, all strays who wander to our gate are welcome.”

Talia. It took a moment for the name to ring a bell and when it did, Jason struggled harder to free his hands. 

She was a vampire. An old one, even older than Tim. 

“I said be still, priest.” Talia’s voice took on a sterner tone. “Timothy brought you here. Do you think he would do so only for you to come to harm?”

Jason quieted, more out of utter exhaustion than the feeling of safety the vampire’s words were meant to convey. “Where is he?”

“He is attending to his own duties.” 

Having his eyes bandaged really sucked. There was only so much his ears could tell him, especially while in the hands of a stranger. Cautiously, he attempted to inhale through his nose and found he couldn’t do that either.

Talia must have noticed because she continued speaking. “Your hands and face are severely burned. I have full reason to believe your head will recover with time and care. For now, you are only able to breathe through your mouth.” A cool finger pressed against his lips and something waxy that tasted strongly of mint was applied. “Try and rub your lips together. This will help soothe them.”

Jason did, not that he had any choice in the matter. But she was right and they did feel better after. He shivered involuntarily as his body was suddenly wracked by cold. 

Another warm blanket was placed over him and he sighed gratefully. “Why am I so cold?”

“My brother shadow-walked to bring you here. Humans are not meant to pass through the realm of darkness, creatures of the light that you are. I suspect the chill will linger with you for some time.”

Oh. That was… That wasn’t good. Jason took a moment to reassess what he could of his situation, of what had happened before. There wasn’t much after he’d stepped into the flames in Brăila. “Why here?” 

Talia’s chuckle had a faintly sinister cast to it. “If you could see yourself, priest, then you would understand. Only under the care of a master healer will you have a chance at surviving.”

* * *

Over the next several days, Jason passed in and out of consciousness. Each time, he stayed awake for longer. Sometimes Talia was there, other times, it was a woman that he came to learn was her current apprentice. The risk of infection from his wounds was severe and he was offered no opportunity to view the damage, even when the bandages on his face were being changed. 

What pained him more than his wounds was that Tim never appeared. 

The third night, he learned why.

“He is with the ForgeMaster Isaac,” Talia explained as she ever so carefully unwound the bandage over his eyes. He wasn’t allowed to open them, even briefly, due to the burns on his eyelids. They would be gently cleansed and rinsed before they were covered again. “This citadel has withstood many assaults over the centuries; we’ve even rebuilt it since the time of our Father. But I could not allow that man to slaughter the people who live here, all for the sake of his night creature army.”

“That’s why you summoned Tim?” Jason asked, slowly rubbing his lips together as he’d been instructed after the soothing balm was applied. 

“Yes. I am Mistress here, and a general in my own right, but my brother’s knowledge of the arcane far outweighs my own. It has been his special area of study since he was turned. Night creatures can be killed, but I was more interested in killing their master.” Talia sounded distinctly put out. 

“But Tim didn’t want that?” he hazarded a guess.

“No.” It was clipped and short, indicative of her thoughts on the matter. “He spent many hours with the ForgeMaster that night, finally convincing him it would be easier to cross the sea with a smaller force than a larger one. My brother travels with them at the moment, safeguarding that they leave these shores to wreak havoc in Europe instead.” 

Jason found he couldn’t be upset with Tim for that. He had responsibilities here, people to protect, just as he did back in Wallachia. It pained him that so many more people would die, only to be reborn as night creatures for the sake of Isaac’s revenge. 

The last of the bandages was unwound and Jason felt the gentle pressure of the damp cloth Talia used to cleanse his eyes. That was all he could feel though. Hot, cold, he had no idea the temperature of the water being used. It had been explained that many of his wounds were deep, that his nerves were damaged and that some parts of his skin were completely gone. 

This was minor in comparison to his hands. They had borne the brunt of the fire damage and had to be kept as still as possible, which was why they were bound against his chest more often than not. Talia had been blunt in telling him he might not regain full use of them again. But his face and head would heal in time. 

They didn’t speak again until after fresh bandages and poultices were in place and Talia moved on to his hands. 

“Part of healing also involves the mind,” she said. “Would you like to discuss how events unfolded in Brăila?” 

“I’m honestly rather surprised that I’m still alive,” Jason replied, somewhat sleepily. “I thought I was walking to my death. That when I was done, I would simply fall asleep and never wake up.”

“May I ask why you think that?”

He didn’t fear death and what came after. Not that he assumed every action he’d made in life guaranteed a place in Heaven. He wasn’t a saint by any stretch of the imagination and while his actions could be seen as that of a martyr, he hadn’t gone to Brăila with the intention to die for his faith. He’d gone because it was what was asked of him. Nothing more, nothing less. “Because then I’d be rewarded.” 

“You walked into a fire like an idiot,” Talia scoffed. “How is that a reward?”

“I did what was asked of me,” Jason tried to defend himself.

“Too much was asked of you,” she replied with some heat. “What kind of god does this to those he is supposed to love?”

Jason stilled, taking in the impact of her words.

He’d failed. It was the only logical explanation for why he was suffering now. 

His faith hadn’t been strong enough to purify the taint. He was weak. A sinner who had been found unworthy of the gift the Lord had granted him. Nothing he could do in this life or the next would ever be enough to find forgiveness. His injuries were nothing more than he deserved.

Talia didn’t speak to him again that night.

* * *

Days passed with no sign of Tim. Jason’s self-loathing grew and he soon found himself stifled by the confines of his room. He could walk—there was nothing wrong with the lower half of his body save for a few superficial burns from fiery clothing that had been quickly doused in river water—and was often discovered pacing his room. 

Seven steps to the right of the bed was a wall with a narrow window. A few paces beyond was another. Using his shoulder to guide him at first, he picked his way around the room to learn where the door was, as well as a very inconsiderately placed table and chairs that he stumbled into the first time around.

It wasn’t enough. 

His thoughts chased after him, reminding him with each step of his failure. He ached to offer up some sort of penance, some prayer beseeching forgiveness, but none of the ones he knew or drafted in the depths of his soul conveyed how he felt.

So much for being the Belmont who was good with words. Even those were failing him. 

One morning after Talia’s apprentice finished feeding him breakfast, she took him by the arm and guided him toward the door. 

This was different. 

“Where are we going?” Jason asked, dredging up a semblance of curiosity. 

“For a walk around the courtyard,” the woman replied. “Lady Talia said some fresh air and sunshine would do you good.” 

He stumbled over the statement, or maybe it was a rough patch on the floor because he still wasn’t allowed to remove the bandages over his eyes. He’d thought that since he just finished breakfast that it was morning, but now… “What time of day is it?” 

“Early morning. The sun is still gentle and won’t harm you.” 

“I thought you were a vampire.” 

The woman laughed, bright and loud. “Whatever gave you that idea?” she asked in a bold voice. “Almost all of us who live within these walls are human. There aren’t many creatures of the night who can withstand all the sun in this part of the world.” 

Jason gaped, feeling rather foolish at his assumption. “The way Tim made it sound, I was under the impression it was the opposite.” 

“I’ve heard stories about how it was back in the time of the old ruler,” the woman said, pausing to help guide him down a flight of shallow stairs. “But these days, the Mafqud is home to those the world rejects, assuming they can make their way here.”

There was that word again. 

“What does that mean?” Jason asked, trying it out in his head before butchering it out loud. “Mafqud.” 

“It has many meanings. Lost, astray, wandering, adrift. Forgotten. Here, we are misfits amongst misfits. But we have a home now. A purpose.”

“And what would that be?” 

“Mine is to help you, at the moment. You are lost and it is time for you to step out of the shadows and into the light.” 

The air changed and Jason felt the moment when they were no longer enclosed by walls. Through his light robe, he felt the faint chill in the morning air, a hint of moisture in his mouth as he breathed deep. There was an earthy scent around him, hinting at plants he couldn’t see. 

A pleasant burble of running water reached his ears and he turned his head in the direction of it. “A fountain?”

“Yes. This is Lord Timothy’s private garden. He has said many times that he enjoys the sound it makes.” 

“Should we be here then?” It felt odd, being in a place that was so intimate to Tim without him present. 

“Of course. You are staying in a room that is part of his quarters. You are a guest, as well as Lady Talia’s patient.” 

Tim’s rooms. He was sleeping in Tim’s rooms. Or a guest room because the room wasn’t quite big enough to belong to a master of this fortress. It had windows too for fuck’s sake. Not exactly a place where a vampire would feel safe.

It still didn’t sit right with Jason, but he stopped complaining while the woman led him around the garden. As they took a seat on the edge of the fountain, a thought occurred to him and he felt like an ass for not asking sooner. He blamed his wallowing for destroying the semblance of manners his mother had instilled in him. “I don’t know your name.” 

The woman laughed again. It was a delightful chime in his darkness. “I’m Stephanie. And you’re Father Belmont.” 

He flinched at the reminder of his failure. “Just Jason is fine.”

“Okay, Jason.”

* * *

He spent much of his time in that quiet little garden with Stephanie, listening to the sound of the fountain and his new friend’s quiet curses as she worked on translating an ancient Greek text into her native Danish. For she was most definitely not from these shores, as she explained that first morning, but from much further north.

“Then how is it that I understand you?” Jason asked somewhat peevishly. “I know a few languages and that isn’t one of them.” 

“There’s an enchantment that Lord Timothy cast upon the walls of the citadel,” she explained. “You could say it negates the entire Tower of Babel story from the Bible.” 

“A translation spell?” 

“A very complex one from what I understand. It takes the spoken word and makes it understood by everyone who hears it.”

Jason nodded slowly, impressed. “Is it just inside these walls then?” 

“Yes. Out in the town, chaos is restored.”

“Will I be able to go out there soon?” A distraction from his misery would be welcome. 

“That decision is up to Lady Talia. The risk of infection for your wounds, even bandaged as they are, is high. This is why you’re being kept in isolation.”

“What does that have to do with infection?”

Stephanie huffed, which he’d learned happened whenever he said something she thought was ridiculous. “People can carry different kinds of bacteria on them and not even know it. They can get into the blood through an open wound, like the ones on your hands and face. I had no idea that was how some types of infection occurred until Lady Talia showed them to me when I first became her apprentice.”

Jason chewed on the word, working it out in his head. There was a Greek base to it and even some Latin, but unless it was spelled out for him, Tim’s translation spell made it impossible to determine the exact origin. “What do bacteria do?” he finally asked. 

The explanation was long and complex, but utterly fascinating. Organisms that were too small to behold with the naked eye that lived in and on the body, how some were good and some were bad. 

“You’ve had an upset stomach from eating something that wasn’t prepared properly or was rotten, right?” Stephanie asked.

“Yeah. More than once.”

“That’s a type of bacterial infection. Getting sick is how your body tries to defend against it.”

“Wait, my body is doing what?”

That launched another discussion about something called the _immune system_ and how his blood had a memory of its own to fight against common ailments.

Jason ached to read from the scroll Stephanie had gone back inside to retrieve, referring to it as she spoke. Suddenly he had a thought and voiced it, interrupting the explanation. “This is what Dracula’s wife Lisa was learning, wasn’t it? Alucard, he said his mother was a doctor.”

“Yes,” Stephanie replied, sorrow lacing her response. “I had a chance to meet her once, not long after I’d arrived here and Lady Talia had taken me on. There’s a device in one of the inner chambers that allows us to see and speak to other people who are on the other side of an identical one. Lady Ţepeş wanted to meet me and wish me well in my studies.”

If he hadn’t seen that device for himself in Dracula’s castle, he’d have called bullshit. As it was, everything Stephanie had said sounded utterly fantastical. But in that castle, Jason had come away with the knowledge that the world was a much bigger and more complex place than he could ever believe. Knowledge that could help and improve mankind, his own Church openly worked to suppress it. Lisa Ţepeş’s death was proof of that.

No wonder Dracula went mad. Not only had he lost the love of his life, but he’d lost the sole reason he had to hope that humans would become better than they were.

It was a humbling thought. 

Jason paused, considering her words. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” 

“Because of a lot of things, but mostly because you drew the short straw and have to put up with my ignorant, grumpy ass.” 

Stephanie snorted, a very unladylike sound that reminded him of his mother. “I’d hardly call you ignorant. But you are a grumpy ass who knows Ancient Greek and is quick to tell me when I say a word wrong. Although, I’m sure you have other redeeming qualities. I’ll be sure to let you know when I find one.”

* * *

“That’s not even a word,” Jason announced a few days later. 

Stephanie harrumphed and smacked his leg, the only easily accessible part of him, stretched out as he was across the wide brim of the fountain. “Are you sure? Universal translator and all?” 

“Spell it.” 

Jason listened as she did, imagining the word on the page as though he were reading it himself. It started to come together and… “Are you sure that’s the right letter?” 

“Huh?” 

“The second to last one you just said. Is that a mu or a nu?” 

The parchment rustled and there was a sharp exhale of Stephanie’s breath.

“It’s a poorly written nu,” came the last voice Jason expected to hear. 

He sat up abruptly, which was quite the feat with both arms bound against his chest. “The hell…?” 

A cool hand clasped his shoulder, gentle yet firm. “Hello, my priest.” 

Tim. Tim had finally returned. 

All the anger and frustration that had spent the last fortnight simmering beneath the surface roared to life. His pain—which he’d done a damn good job at ignoring whenever Stephanie was around—his agony. It was all too easy to place the blame for his failure at Tim’s feet, but Jason knew the fault was with him. 

It went much deeper than just falling prey to the whims of the flesh. He’d been judged and found unworthy. 

He had been abandoned by God. 

Jason shoved Tim’s hand away and staggered to his feet. “Why?” he choked out. “Why didn’t you just let me die?” 

Silence. Only the burble of the fountain had the audacity to break it. 

“What are you talking about?” Tim finally answered. “Why would I leave you to die when saving you was well within my power?” 

_“Because I failed!”_ Jason sobbed, swallowing against the hard knot rising in his throat. “God has abandoned me, so why didn’t you?”

This time, it was Stephanie’s warm hands that reached out to steady him.

“You didn’t fail,” came Tim’s level response. “You succeeded. The Danube flows clean and pure through Brăila once more. It is I who failed you.” 

What? Jason stilled as the words pierced the red haze clouding his mind. How? “I don’t… That doesn’t make sense.” 

A cool hand came to rest again on his shoulder. “I failed you, my priest. I could see through the flames the damage being done to your hands. But you would not release that cross, even when the Hellfire retreated, and the taint vanished after all those hours of prayer. Your robes caught fire. I thought you were aware of what was happening, but you just stood there like a statue before toppling over into the water. It burned me as I doused you to extinguish the remaining flames. I wasn’t fast enough to stop it from—”

“You were hurt?” Jason interrupted, stunned that he even had words at all. 

He hadn’t failed. He wasn’t alone. Oh, fuck him for being ten kinds of an idiot and not letting Talia discuss the events that brought him here. 

“I will survive,” Tim answered. “The river was pure from the power of your prayers, so I think the scars will last for a while. We’ll match once your bandages are removed.”

Stephanie pressed gently on Jason’s side, prompting him to take a seat. “You two are a matched pair, that’s for sure,” she muttered. “Both martyrs in your own way.” 

“I am not,” Tim retorted with some heat. 

“Oh really, my lord? Who’s the one braving the afternoon sky with only a heavy cloak and no gloves?” 

Jason had to hold back a laugh because really, Stephanie didn’t hold back with the lord and master of this place any more than she did with him. 

“The earth isn’t going to start spinning in the opposite direction and bring the sun back.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Actually, I do, but—" 

“But nothing. I didn’t put all that hard work into healing your hands just so you can waste it by doing something stupid like walk around in broad daylight.” The frustration was palpable, and Jason was very glad his bandages hid most of his face because he was trying very hard not to laugh. “And you!” Stephanie turned on him. “Are you saying that all this time, you thought you deserved to die?” 

Fuck. 

“Yes?” he answered, hoping the meek tone would somewhat appease her.

“I suppose you were just waiting for your bandages to come off so you could find the nearest wall and throw yourself over it?”

The accusation stung and Jason bristled. “I might be an excommunicated priest, but I never once thought of killing myself.”

“No, just living the rest of your life in misery out of misplaced guilt,” Tim murmured, close enough that Jason could hear it. 

“You know what?” he whirled on Tim. “Fuck you. Fuck you and the stupid lute you can barely play. You weren’t here, you sanctimonious bastard. You _weren’t_ here!”

“No, and for that I am sorry.” Tim must have taken a seat because his entire left side cooled. “Once I knew you would survive, I had no choice but to leave. I couldn’t take the risk of Isaac changing his mind and returning.”

The sad thing was, Jason understood completely. Duty would always come before love because he was the exact same. He would sooner sacrifice himself than see pain come to those few he cared for.

Except for maybe Trevor, but only because he was a real dick when he was drunk. 

“You two really are idiots, I swear to God,” Stephanie pronounced. The warmth left Jason’s side as she stood. “I have better things to do than listen to this drivel. Fight it out or whatever you two do to resolve your problems. Jason, I expect you inside at sundown.” 

The soft rustle of fabric and the crackle of parchment faded as she stormed away.

A soft touch at his shoulder had Jason turning his head as much as he could. 

“I could not leave you there,” Tim stated, his breath cool across Jason’s still-healing lips. “Even if you had been conscious enough to tell me, I would have ignored you.”

“And you think a life where I could find myself blind or crippled is one that I want to live? Where I am utterly dependent upon those around me for my care and wellbeing?” 

Crippled, he could deal with, or so Jason believed. He was resourceful enough to work around it and adapt. But losing his vision? Just put him out of his misery now. A world without color or light or words was one where he would quickly go mad.

“You will not go blind.” Tim’s voice was firm. 

“And how are you so sure about that?” 

“Because I believe. And…”

Jason sighed. Of course, there was already something at play that he wasn’t aware of. “What did you do?” 

“Let me preface this by saying that if I hadn’t, then you really would have died on the way here.” 

“That’s not helping your case.” 

Tim placed a hand on Jason’s thigh, whether to steady himself or Jason, it was hard to tell. “When I decided the Mafqud was the only place where you would have a chance at surviving your burns, the only way to bring you here at any speed before sunrise was by shadow-walking. As you know, the realm drains me if I spend too much time there. But a human, it would kill you in minutes.”

Jason stilled as suspicion grew. “You didn’t.” 

“I did.” Tim’s hand tightened. “I drank briefly from you, then bit my arm and forced you to drink from me.” 

The hold was the only thing that kept Jason from stumbling to his feet and tripping his way to fuck knew where. Likely into the closest wall, but that was beside the point. He was… He was…

“I’m bound to you.”

“Not fully,” Tim was quick to reassure. “It takes three times for that to happen. You know this. Besides, I would much rather drink from your veins than you from mine.”

“Like that’s supposed to be reassuring.” 

“Jason, listen to me.” Tim must have shifted because the cool presence moved to his sandaled feet. “As frustrating as you are at times, I would not have you any other way. Your will is your own. Your choices are your own. I will not subvert that. I will never take that away from you.” 

Tim’s words rang true in Jason’s ears. He knew that Tim wouldn’t make him a slave to his will. That he abhorred the very thought of it because of how his own had been taken away all those centuries ago. Tim might be a vampire, a monster the Belmonts had sworn to eradicate from this earth, but he was also the man Jason loved. 

Which made it really annoying because he was also pissed as all fuck at him right now. 

“I need some time to think,” Jason announced. “Because if I don’t, then I’m gonna end up saying something I might really regret later.” 

“That’s fair enough.” Tim rested his hands against Jason’s knees and squeezed gently. “I’ll let Stephanie know you’re still out here so she can come check on you. Just… May I eat dinner with you tonight?”

“What, you wanna watch me get spoon-fed because I can’t eat myself?” he snapped. 

“Okay, perhaps not. But after, may I come and sit with you?” 

“Fine. Bring something to read to me. Stephanie is trying to translate _Medea_ into Danish and I’m tired of listening to her pick on me just because of my name.”

* * *

A blood-bond. The first step in becoming a human servant to a vampire. Jason might not be able to pace around the garden, but the way around the fountain was clear, so he walked in circles. Appropriate, considering the way his thoughts were going. 

He hadn’t failed. He hadn’t been abandoned. But with what was flowing in his veins right now… 

Jason had always taken a lot on faith. How could he not when he received the visions that he did? For him, there was no doubt that God was real. He, a lowly mortal, had been blessed with the power to do untold good in this world. And not for himself—for others. Always, his visions were for helping people. 

Did the vampire blood running through his veins take that gift away?

There was only one way to find out. Problem was, he needed a church. His visions had only ever come while he was a supplicant.

He highly doubted there was consecrated ground around here. But Stephanie told him that most of the population in the town were human. So that had to mean there was a small community of Christians, of varying levels of faith. Perhaps they had a place of worship he could visit, if Talia ever let him leave. 

“Fuck me and fuck my life,” Jason muttered. 

Why was nothing ever easy for him?

* * *

After dinner, Jason sat at the small table in his room, listening more to Tim’s voice than the text he was reading. It was soothing and a welcome distraction from the persistent itch that was starting to bother his scalp. 

They didn’t discuss their earlier conversation. 

A knock at the door had Tim pausing. “Good evening, Sister,” he said. “How was your afternoon?” 

“Well enough,” came Talia’s response. “It is good to see you home, Brother.” 

“It’s good to be home.” There was the rustle of paper and a light thud as Tim set down the tome he’d been reading aloud. “Jason.” 

“Yeah?” 

“May I stay to see how your wounds have healed?” 

Someone must have known they were still in the hot seat. Good. 

“It’s fine.” 

Talia never wasted time when it came to changing his bandages and tonight was no exception. There was the sound of water dripping and a quiet comment from Stephanie, who always accompanied her. 

“How do you feel this evening, priest?” Talia asked as she unwound the bandages from his head. 

“Itchy,” Jason replied. “It feels like ants are racing all around my head.” 

“That’s good. It means your skin has regrown.” 

“I still don’t feel that in my hands.” 

“I am not surprised.” Talia didn’t elaborate as the last bandage was removed and she started lightly prodding his scalp. It felt good and Jason couldn’t help but sigh into it. The vampire chuckled lightly. “This looks very nice,” she announced. “Let’s rinse your eyes and I think we’ll have you try to open them.” 

Relief and trepidation warred with each other as Jason tilted his head to allow Stephanie to cleanse his eyelids and sponge the corners. 

“Alright, priest.” Talia placed her hands on his face, holding it still. “Go ahead.” 

It took a few tries before the muscles remembered what they were supposed to do. Jason blinked slowly at first, then more rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the light. 

The first thing he saw clearly was the face of his healer. 

Talia was a stunning woman. Coppery brown hair and green eyes that blazed like the most brilliant emerald. What struck him as odd though was her skin. There was no mistaking it was originally the deep olive tone of someone born to this part of the world. But centuries spent away from the sun had leached all hint of warmth from it.

A small smile appeared, revealing the tips of her fangs. “Hello, Father Belmont.” 

“Lady Talia.” Jason bowed his head as deep as it would go. 

“You do have pretty eyes,” Stephanie chimed in. 

Turning, he grinned at the sight of his other healer and new friend. She was a beautiful blonde, with blue eyes of her own and skin diffused with a rosy hue that stood in sharp contrast to the vampires around them. Never before had he truly noticed the marked difference between humans and vampires. He’d always been aware of it, but it was as though he were seeing it for the first time. 

“Thanks?” Jason offered. “I suppose given the fact I have no hair whatsoever on my head means they really stand out.” 

“They do,” Tim said, stepping around Talia into his line of sight. “Hello, my priest.” 

Jason narrowed his eyes, noticing how Tim’s hands were tucked into the folds of his sleeves. “Show me.” 

“Now really isn’t the time.”

_“Show me.”_

With a reluctant frown, Tim withdrew his hands. 

The once delicate appearing fingers had a shriveled cast to them, like they had been submerged for too long and wrinkled. But what stood out the most was their silvery appearance, the skin taut with scar tissue. 

“You lost your fingernails,” was the only thing Jason could say. 

“It does make playing my lute a challenge,” Tim admitted, drawing them back. “I have a salve I apply every few hours. Doctor’s orders.” He cast a small smile at Talia. 

“I doubt even the blood of ten humans would provide the nourishment he needs to heal properly,” she said. “Purification, the only thing that allows us to even somewhat recover is time.” 

“I still think it is a small price to pay considering the alternative.” 

“If you say so, Brother.” 

“I do. It’s my life, Sister.”

The shared looks between the two vampires, Jason had seen it many times before. The fond exasperation that only people who were extremely close could communicate between them. They really were family, or what passed as such for these two ancient beings. 

Talia turned her attention back to him. “Priest, I think I’ll allow you to leave the bandages off for a couple of hours. They must go back on before you go to bed. You toss too much in your sleep and the skin is still very tender.” 

“Thank you.” The simple statement belied the excitement his racing heart no doubt gave away. He could fucking see, even if it was for a short time. At this point, he’d take what he could get. 

The wrappings that kept his arms bound were loosened and Jason went through the exercises that were asked of him each time he was free. It felt good to move and he mourned the fact he’d be tied back up again soon.

When he was done, Talia took hold of one of his hands. “Stephanie, would you bring the light closer?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She did as she was asked, the need for it more likely for her than the vampire. 

Talia unwound the bandages from his hand. The scent of herbs, poultices, and whatever else they used hit Jason’s nose at it always did—sour and sweet and overly medicinal all combined.

Tonight though, tonight he could see what the bandages concealed.

It wasn’t pretty. 

His hand was only recognizable as such because of his fingers. Every inch was red and raw, resembling nothing more than a side of bacon. There was no skin, no fingernails. Just flesh and what might have been a hint of bone. 

Jason’s stomach heaved and he had to look away. 

Tim came around and placed a scarred hand on his shoulder. Wordlessly, Jason pressed his forehead against it, seeking what comfort he could.

“Stephanie, hold the light closer here,” Talia ordered. “Look.” 

“It’s grown since this morning,” the apprentice healer said. “What do you want to do?” 

Jason glanced down to see what they were talking about. On the inside of his wrist, he made out a dark smudge beneath the skin there. It looked like a bruise, but he had a feeling it wasn’t. “What is it?” he dared to ask. 

“A pocket of infection,” Stephanie was the one to reply. “I cleaned it out this morning, but it’s back and bigger than before. We’ve been battling it in both of your hands since you arrived.” 

Talia was already running a small, sharp blade through the fire of the small lamp Stephanie held steady. “This is the third such pocket we’ve cleaned from this hand in the last week. I will not be surprised to find it on the other hand tonight either. It’s spreading and I am afraid there is very little we can do to stop it.” 

Tim’s grip tightened. “Keep trying.” 

“Medicine is a science. I can’t just wave my hand and _poof_ , it goes away.” Talia’s voice was sharp. “We are doing our best, but if it spreads past here,” she pointed to a spot on his wrist, “then I will have no choice but to amputate the limb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on word choice: I would not normally use the word crippled in anything I write or in my every day life. However, this is a historical fic and Jason is, despite all his worldliness, a character of his times. If this were a modern fic, then I would have many more options to choose from. I had a long discussion about this with my friend denalian, who is herself disabled. She is a fantastic beta reader and in this case, I used her as a sensitivity reader as well. We discussed context, history, and Jason's mindset. Eventually, we decided to leave the word as is because using a modern phrase would take away from the historical nature of the fic.


End file.
